


Flickering Flames

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione finds herself caught between blazing hot flames, and the subtle warmth of long-burning embers. Afraid of being burned, she turns to the comfort and consistency of the embers, but you should never turn your back on a roaring fire... Bingo Prize fic!</p><p>Betas: <b>namelessamelie</b> and <b>MazVN</b>. Britpicks: <b>filigree1</b> and <b>RZZMG</b> (on chapter 1-2).</p><p>Lovely artwork by <b>xfsista</b></p><div class="center">
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    <img/>
  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [namelessamelie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelessamelie/gifts).



When Hermione accidentally knocked over her inkpot, she did something that was completely uncharacteristic of her. She swore. The words coming from her lips were neither very loud nor very inventive, but they were heartfelt. Every single syllable pronounced with such loving care that one could have been led to think that something far worse than a soggy piece of parchment and a stained desk was behind it.

One might have been right.

"Now, now, Granger," Something Far Worse said, strolling into Hermione's office like he owned the place. "That didn't sound very ladylike."

Hermione grabbed her quill so hard it began bending dangerously. She didn't need this. Not today. Not ever. "What can I help you with, Malfoy?" she asked as civilly as she possibly could.

"You seem... tense," he said, walking behind her, making her tense even further and unconsciously edge away from him.

"I have an important meeting soon, so I don't really have time for your games. Could you make it quick?"

She knew he was narrowing his eyes at her. Somehow, she'd come to know him far better than she'd ever wanted since she'd transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about a year ago. He had, for obvious reasons, a vested interest in any pure-blood favouring laws she might want to rewrite, but he'd also proved to be a powerful ally—as long as he wasn't _too_ affected by the changes she made.

Obviously, it was only a matter of time before she had to pull the rug out from under him and he'd be turning all his means and connections against her in defence—and she had a feeling he had started the war between them early, using dirty tricks to put the odds in his own favour.

She shouldn't have been surprised.

"Make it quick?" he slowly said, as if tasting the words, walking back around to the front of the desk and placing his hands on it, carefully avoiding the ink stain. "All right, I'll make it quick. What happened last night?"

Hermione swallowed hard. Right to the point. "Nothing. Nothing happened last night."

"You call that nothing?"

She looked him directly in the eyes. "It was nothing, Malfoy. Forget it." She knew it wouldn't work. She knew she couldn't postpone this. But she wanted to halt whatever he was trying to do to her so badly that she had to try. She wasn't like him. She couldn't take her interests to this whole new personal level, and she didn't know how to deal with the fact that he could.

"Nothing?" he repeated once more. "It's funny... it didn't seem like nothing when we were snogging on this very desk of yours."

"It was... a thing of the moment. We were both overworked and tired, and you know that when you're tired enough it kind of qualifies as drunk and—"

"Granger!"

She jumped from the sharpness in his voice. "What?"

"Stop it."

She sunk into herself a little. He was right. She was blabbering and making up excuses. She merely wasn't ready for this to happen. She wasn't certain she'd ever be. Merlin, when he'd kissed her last night, the thought that he might have an agenda had never even crossed her mind... she'd been too busy making a fool of herself by responding. It was only when she'd been home in her bed that his motives had dawned on her, and looking at him now, she knew she had to be right about them. Why else would this be happening?

He stood to lose a lot—his whole way of life—from some of the proposals she was already working on. He probably thought he could seduce her into giving them up. That, or at the very least discredit her. It wasn't that she was overly concerned that he could achieve either of those goals, but after how she'd found her body reacting to him last night, she was afraid of what else she might lose before this war was over.

"You look tired," he said, straightening up. "Did _nothing_ make you lose sleep?"

Hermione exhaled. What was she supposed to say to that? She _had_ lost sleep last night. She'd probably gone through every emotion in the book to boot, so she was currently exhausted. "Just... don't, Malfoy," she muttered.

He looked at her. Merely looked. The silence stretched and it was beginning to really get to her when—fortunately—there was a knock on her open door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Harry asked.

Hermione couldn't quite squelch her relieved sigh, and judging by the way Malfoy's eyes narrowed, he'd noticed. "No, come on in, Harry. Malfoy was just leaving." She looked away, unwilling to risk provoking him to rebel.

Malfoy merely snorted and left, bumping too forcefully into Harry's shoulder as he passed him.

Harry barely spared the other wizard a second look. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Hermione almost gave into the urge to shake her head, but at the very last minute changed it to a nod. "Yeah... certainly," she lied through her teeth. There was nothing Harry could do about it anyway, and she didn't really fancy him knowing about what had happened the night before. "So, what brings you here?"

Harry shrugged, looking slightly abashed. "I was simply wondering if you'd like to go out for dinner tonight?"

"Dinner?" She was still distracted from what had just happened, so she was barely paying attention.

"Yes. Tonight. With me."

She forced herself to smile and be mentally present. "Of course. Where did you have in mind?"

"Oh. Um, there's this new restaurant... it's supposedly good."

"And supposedly extremely expensive," Hermione pointed out. There was only one new restaurant in wizarding London, after all. "Are we celebrating something?"

Harry shrugged again and shook his head. "I simply... fancy a nice dinner."

"All right. If you can get in. I hear tables need to be booked months in advance."

At that he flashed her a grin. "What kind of wizarding establishment in their right mind would turn _me_ away?"

At that moment, he reminded her so much of Malfoy that it gave her pause, but before she could comment on it, he'd gone, leaving her to her work and her pool of fast-drying ink.

* * *

Harry wiped his hands on his trousers. Then he wiped them again. In spite of his nervousness, his palms weren't particularly sweaty, but he didn't know what else to do with them. Absent-mindedly, he ran one hand through his hair, but then he swore at himself and frantically tried to undo the damage. Hermione liked his hair neat. As neat as it could be, at least. She found his windblown, carefree Quidditch hairdo to be silly and possibly endearing, but neither charming nor very handsome.

He wanted to look charming and handsome tonight.

This whole thing had been a long time coming. Hermione had no idea, of course. He hadn't known how to tell her. This wasn't like it had been with Ginny. Then, it had all hit him after seeing her with someone else, and in the end it had all been solved with something as simple as a kiss. This time... his feelings had slowly crept up on him until one day they had stared him in the face with the full force of more than a decade's friendship, and he was afraid to simply kiss her in case it would ruin something extremely precious to him.

That was what tonight was all about. He needed to tell her about how he felt. He had to have this whole embarrassing conversation that laid him completely bare to her. It was the only way.

He ran his hand through his hair again, forgetting all about looking neat. Where was she? Wasn't she supposed to be here by now?

Finally, he spotted her as she entered the restaurant. She truly was a sight for sore eyes. He should invite her to posh restaurants more often, really, simply to get a chance to have her that made up and all to himself. The dress she wore shimmered as she moved and clung to her every curve. The neckline dipped low, and the golden fabric was occasionally broken in strategically alluring places by something flesh-coloured that teased the onlookers to think that if they stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d catch a glimpse of something more.

He resolved to keep his eyes on her face.

She reached the table and smiled at him. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long."

"N-no, not at all," he squeaked, before clearing his throat. He was being rather pathetic, wasn't he? This was _Hermione_ , one of his best mates in the world and someone he'd certainly had his share of meals with over the years. "I was early," he weakly added.

Ugh. He was still feeling rather awkward, and he didn't think it would get any better soon.

She sat down, apparently not noticing anything amiss, and they got around to ordering without Harry's tongue completely tying itself in knots. Fortunately, Hermione had some funny stories from work that easily filled the time until their food arrived. Harry really wasn't interested in eating, though, so he merely poked it with a fork and possibly had more wine than he should.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione finally said. "You seem... twitchy."

Harry grimaced. Lovely. Just the adjective he wanted her to associate him with tonight. He pre-emptively cleared his throat to be on the safe side this time. "Actually... I... had something I wanted to talk to you about."

"All right, I'm listening."

She made it sound like what he had to say should be simple to get out. 

"See, the thing is, I, uh, um... I suppose what I really wanted to say is that... You know how we're... Perhaps I should start again." He frowned. He'd been so much smoother in front of his mirror.

She chuckled. "I really can't wait to hear what it is that has you all tongue-tied tonight, Harry," she teased, raising her wine glass to her soft-looking, red, perfect lips.

"I'm in love with you," he blurted out.

_Smooth, Harry. Really smooth. All that practice certainly came to fruition there._

He'd had this whole speech planned about their history, their friendship, the affection between them... something that should've made her more amenable to the idea of maybe trying out for a _little_ more with him. Just to see if it could happen.

As it was, he was trapped watching her hand still, wine forgotten, and her eyes widen with disbelief. He knew what was coming next. On top of such an inelegant admission, she'd probably want to let him down gently, and then they'd be awkward around each other for a very long time, possibly forever.

"Hear me out," he rushed on, not completely certain what he was about to say. "I didn't mean that to come out quite that bluntly. I'm sorry. And you have to know that I would never, _ever_ do anything to compromise our friendship or make you uncomfortable. Um, more uncomfortable... I mean, if you don't want anything to do with it, I'll never mention it again. I promise. You're too important to me. As a friend."

She swallowed and slowly put down her glass, her eyes still wide with the shock. "I know," she said in all but a whisper.

"Good... good," he muttered, not knowing where to go from there. "It's simply... lately... I've looked at you and... I've found that I want more than our friendship permits."

She raised a sardonic eyebrow at that.

"N-not like that!" he stammered, flushing as he realised how that must've sounded. "I just... I want to take you out."

"You just did," she pointed out, apparently still unsure what to think.

"I did," he conceded, "but... I want more. I want to be with you, Hermione."

"This... is a lot," she murmured, fidgeting a bit and biting her lip.

He held up his hands. "I know. I know. And... I know you don't quite feel the same way about me." Yet, hopefully. "I'm not even asking you to agree to be with me right away."

"Then what are you asking?" Her voice was quiet, but her gaze was steady. She might have been shocked, but she seemed determined to deal with it. Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.

"Go out with me," he said, feeling his heart in his throat in a way he hadn't since he'd been a teenager. "See if you can find a spark with me. If you can't, then... then at least we tried."

"I don't want our friendship to be compromised."

"I'd die before I'd let that happen," he swore, definitely meaning it. He could live with only part of her in his life, but if she weren't in his life at all, he'd barely call it surviving.

"All right," she agreed. "I'll go out with you. See what happens."

He heard the slight hesitation but knew it was only natural for her to be cautious. "You won't regret it," he said.

She smiled again; that beautiful, sweet smile of hers. "Why would I?" she teased. "After all, you can get us reservations anywhere with only a few hours' notice."

* * *

Hermione signed the last piece of parchment and sat back with a satisfied smile on her lips. There was nothing better than an empty in-tray. Granted, tomorrow there’d be all the more pieces of parchment to make up for it, seeing as how any work she ever did only ever bred more work, but for now she felt accomplished.

Emotional turmoil tended to bring out the workaholic in her, and today she was probably the last person still in the Ministry offices.

It was a really difficult situation Harry had put her in the night before. She’d already all but lost one of her best friends due to a romantic entanglement gone sour, and she wasn’t too keen on losing another.

Yet... Harry had been wrong about something. He’d said she didn’t have feelings for him. That was blatantly untrue, although she was quite relieved that he'd never picked up on that. She’d had this silly little crush on him for quite a while now. She’d merely enjoyed the flutter she got whenever he was around and otherwise ignored it as best she could, because she hadn’t wanted to risk it.

But now Harry had taken the chance, so how could she _not_ agree? It could be worth it. It wouldn't necessarily have to go the way of her relationship with Ron.

She should go home. Sitting at work, thinking about her love life, wasn’t really the most productive of things to do. Besides, Harry had gone on a work trip this morning and wouldn’t be back for a whole week anyway. He’d admitted it wasn't the best timing, but it couldn't really be helped. Trips like that simply popped up from time to time in his line of work.

“Why are you still here?”

Hermione flinched at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. “Why would you look for me only to ask me why I’m here?” she countered.

He snorted and waltzed in. “I wasn’t looking for you. I was leaving and saw you were still here.”

“And that stopped you from leaving—why?”

She saw a hint of an annoyed frown before he smirked and approached her desk. “I thought maybe you were waiting for me to drop by.” Before she could comment on the ridiculousness of that statement, he added, “Or maybe you were waiting for Potter.”

“Why would I be waiting for Harry?” Too late, she realised that she’d been tricked into not questioning why she’d be waiting for _Malfoy_ , and adding anything now would simply draw more attention to it. Annoying git. She got up and went to get a glass of water from the sideboard to distract her hands from their budding plans to strangle him.

His smirk widened, but fortunately turning her back to him meant she didn’t have to keep seeing it. “I saw you dressed to impress last night. I have to say, I was certainly impressed. Can’t speak for Potter, though. He seemed remarkably able to keep yapping.”

Hermione felt her face heat up. That dress had been a silly spur of the moment thing. She’d never had an occasion to wear anything that sexy and she’d figured it wouldn’t do any harm, but it hadn’t seemed to do any good either. For all his talk of fancying her, Harry hadn’t even once looked below her face.

“I didn’t even notice you were at the restaurant,” she said, forcing her voice to sound unbothered. She ended up also sounding a little smug, since she was telling the truth.

“Oh, but I very much noticed you. I think everyone noticed you wearing that dress. And I had a prime view of that bare back of yours all night. I kept wishing that one of your straps would slide down or that you would move in a way that would loosen the fabric a little bit, so I could peek inside...”

Her blush deepened, and she refused to turn around. “You must’ve been a delightful dinner partner.”

“Who says I wasn’t alone?”

She couldn’t help the short laugh. “You? Dine out on your own? I expect you’d rather starve.”

She finally turned to face him, only to find that he’d moved quite close to her, and turning around had been a really bad idea. She edged as casually as she could around him and over to peruse a bookcase on the other side of the room. She knew that her avoidance was obvious, especially since she'd forgotten her water, but she hardly even cared at this point.

“Touché,” he murmured, turning with her but otherwise not moving. “I can’t say how I was, really. Don’t know what I had to eat either. But I think I ate. There was a bill to be paid at the end of the night. Then again, I _know_ I had too much to drink, so...”

“Was there a point, Malfoy?” She couldn’t listen to this. She attempted to stare him down.

“Why would you waste a dress like that on Potter?”

She looked away. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes whilst he was doing this. She wished he’d stop. “I didn’t consider it wasted.”

“If you’d gone out with me dressed like that, I would’ve fed you in bed, not sat at a restaurant for hours.”

“But I didn’t go out with you!” The sharpness in her voice was fully intentional, but she still had to fight back a flinch. She could never tell when Malfoy was serious and when he was merely playing around. She didn’t want to be rude to him, but he was crossing far too many lines.

“I’m very aware of that. Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t recall you ever asking me out.”

“I don’t recall you ever acknowledging my advances long enough for me to ask.”

Oh, dear God. This was entirely too much. “I don’t recall you ever advancing in a way that deserved to be acknowledged.”

In a flash he’d crossed the distance between them and was crowding her against the bookcase, making her very uncomfortable on several levels. She opened her mouth to sharply rebuff him again, but something about the expression on his face stopped her. He was angry. Very angry. She didn’t think he would hurt her, but she still didn’t feel like fuelling the fire.

“What would deserve to be acknowledged, then?” he hissed. “Should I pretend not to want you like _Potter_ constantly does? Is that the way? Forget it. I’m finished with hypocrisy. When you kissed me, I’d hoped you were too.”

“I didn’t kiss you.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Didn’t notice you as much as hesitating.”

“And all the hesitation since hasn’t been a clue?” she shot back.

The look on his face was as stunned as if she’d slapped him, and then his eyes chilled until there was nothing but ice left. He stepped back. “Forget it. Obviously I thought you'd be different.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Granger. You meant to.”

“You cornered me!”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Whatever. Here’s the thing, though; you get off on the fact that I want you. You get off on the little hints. I don’t actually mind feeding your ego, but whenever it gets a tad too real and I might actually act on it, you get scared and you lash out, making it seem as though I’m stalking poor little innocent you against your will, when you've actually been encouraging it all along.”

“I don’t _want_ —”

“Dragon dung! You could’ve told me anytime that you had no interest in what I was doing, but you never did. And when we—when _I_ kissed _you_ —you responded far more enthusiastically than I ever thought you would. We would’ve shagged right there on your desk if we hadn’t been interrupted, and you know it.”

“It’s not... it’s nothing.” She didn’t _like_ him, after all. All she liked were his lips and his hands, and the way it felt when he pushed his hips between her thighs... Oh, Merlin, that had felt entirely too good. She couldn't seem to forget it, no matter how hard she tried.

_Focus. He's trying to use you._

“What do you honestly think I want?” he asked, sounding no less aggressive than before. “It’s nothing but good old-fashioned lust. Sex. Absolutely nothing else. It’s me wanting to grab you and shag you on the spot whenever I see you, especially when I see you wearing all but nothing at a fancy restaurant. Do you think I particularly _want_ to want you? It’s a damn nuisance that interferes with my work. I wouldn’t even be _here_ now if I didn’t know you felt the same way, even if you’re trying to lie your way out of it.”

“It has to stop,” she whispered. It really did have to stop and she didn’t know of any better way to make it stop than to ignore it. She couldn’t live her life constantly afraid of this sexual energy between them erupting again. She really had almost slept with him only a couple of days ago and she was far too physically aware of him. Whether he really felt like that as well, though... she still wasn't certain. He could very well have been using her physical attraction to him to weaken her and use as a weapon against her in this political war of theirs.

“I only know one way to make it stop.” He stepped closer to her, and there was no doubt what he meant. He really did intend to take it to that level, didn't he?

“Be serious.”

“I am.”

She shook her head. “We can’t simply... do that.”

“Why not?”

She swallowed. Because you couldn’t control fire and it would consume everything in its path, killing her in the process? Although it was a rather dramatic metaphor, it was a bit too uncomfortably close to the truth. He could destroy her self-confidence, her career, her budding relationship with Harry. “I don’t want to.”

“See, now you’re lying again. That’s quickly becoming a nasty habit of yours, Granger.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” He stepped even closer, but this time it made her uncomfortable for a whole host of other reasons. “Do you have a boyfriend, then?”

She hesitated. She supposed she didn’t. She and Harry had agreed to not fully commit to anything but a tentative testing of the waters. Still, they weren’t _not_ together. She didn’t feel like explaining any of this to Malfoy at the moment, though. “No...”

“Is it because it’s me and we have an unpleasant history?”

“There really are too many reasons to count.” She looked away. What else could she say?

“Yet you can’t provide me with a single one.”

She did seem to have problems with that, but not because she couldn’t think of any. They would simply be too easy for him to either shrug off or lie his way past. It would be a waste of energy. “I’m not used to this, Malfoy. It’s been a really long time since... uh, I mean, I don’t usually—” she vaguely attempted.

His eyes heated at the admission. “It’ll be even better, then.”

“No... don’t talk about this like it’s going to happen.”

“When are you going to get it?” he murmured against her ear, making her shiver in response. When had he moved this close to her? “It’ll happen. It’s only a question of _when_. And I can wait if I have to. I’ve waited this long, haven’t I?”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“I’ve waited much longer than that, Granger, and you know it. You’ve felt it.”

She knew. She knew far too well. She wasn't completely certain when she'd started losing her breath around him, but she knew he'd noticed immediately and had been watching her, waiting for his chance to pounce. This had to go away. How could she ever have a relationship with anyone if this didn’t go away? “It has to stop...”

“Then stop it. You know there’s only one way,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
> He groaned against her flesh. “Granger... don’t ever fucking tell me again that you don’t want this.”
> 
> “I don’t,” she whispered. Part of her really didn't. Unfortunately, that wasn't the part currently in control of her body.
> 
> He straightened, looking her in the eyes for what seemed like ages and then he sighed. “Yeah, nor me,” he muttered. “But what are we going to do about it?”


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t a gentle kiss by any means. It was a kiss designed to show Hermione exactly what she was missing out on, and how easy it would be for her to reach out and take it. The problem was, she already knew. She’d known since the last time Draco had kissed her and she’d almost given in. Or, rather, she _had_ given in then, but they had been interrupted by the cleaning staff and she’d been able to make her mortified escape.

She shouldn’t let him have this kind of power over her. He could crush her career _and_ her personal life. She didn’t think Harry would want her very much if he ever heard about this. He couldn’t know. But on the other hand, she couldn’t go out with Harry whilst _feeling_ like this, either. What did it say about someone that they could be in love with one person yet have their blood set on fire by someone else? She was so confused. This wasn’t supposed to be possible.

Maybe if she gave in, the proverbial spell would be broken, and she’d be able to keep a clear head around Malfoy. That would be lovely. Maybe it wouldn’t even be a very memorable experience, and she would be able to give herself a good hard kick in the arse for ever being this weak. Maybe it wouldn't give him the power over her that she feared it would.

She broke the kiss to gasp. “I know! It’s _because_ it’s been so long. I could sleep with any—”

“Won’t work.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

“All right,” he muttered, nuzzling her neck. “Then consider this... do you feel this need around everyone?”

“No, but I—”

“Anyone you could be attracted to? I’ll bet the answer is no.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.” She knew she sounded pitiful, but she wasn’t thinking straight at that moment. She didn’t want to want him either, but her heart was pounding and there was this dull, lonely throbbing between her legs that she’d come to dread whenever he was around. She desperately wanted him to press harder against her. Just one more time.

“It happens, ” he quietly said. “You simply get it out of your system and move on.”

“Never tell anyone.”

She felt his hands tighten on her sides as he registered her surrender almost before she'd registered it herself. “Never,” he promised.

She nodded and suddenly his hands were quickly and efficiently seeking out anything even remotely resembling a zip or a button, stripping her of her work robes before she had a chance to have second thoughts. Then he pulled off his own, and there was only a lot of skin and very little cloth between them.

Her eyes widened, and she tried to make her throat work well enough to swallow. This was all suddenly going so fast. Was it really happening? And was the door even locked? She glanced at it and he took the hint, quickly summoning his wand and sending a quiet spell that way.

“Relax,” he whispered. “No one will interrupt us today. And I'll finally get a chance to do all the things I craved last night..."

“You exaggerate.”

“Do I? Why do you think I got sloshed?” He nibbled at her ear and opened her bra, making her feel exposed as the straps fell down and his gaze dropped. “I was so worked up, I couldn’t walk out of there without everyone noticing. By the time I got drunk enough to go home, I really should’ve been unable to do anything about it...” He stared at her breasts for a bit as if he’d lost his train of thought, then grinned. “Well, I wasn’t.”

How did one respond to that? She didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t really feel like talking anyway. Instead, she tentatively ran her hands over his chest, making him hum with pleasure.

“Even though it was uncomfortable to say the least," he continued. "I came so hard I could barely stand—not that this is saying all that much, considering how drunk I was—and I still wanted more. If you’d been there with me, I would’ve shagged you until you didn’t know your own name... all over a dress you wore for another wizard.”

She couldn’t help the way her cheeks flushed at his words. He was being so frank about something she’d always considered very private. It didn’t mean she wanted him to stop talking, though. To her own surprise and shame, she really did want to hear more about how much he wanted her. “You don’t seem that hung over today,” she pointed out.

“Didn’t see me this morning, then,” he muttered. “I thought I was dying.” His hands slid down her sides around to her bum, making the throbbing even worse. She wanted him to touch her _there_ so desperately.

“It really doesn’t show.”

“No... a few potions, a couple of remedies and a single spell did wonders.”

“Cheat,” she muttered. Then she gasped, as he’d definitely lost interest in their conversation and had hoisted her up far enough for him to put his mouth on her breast, sucking and playing with her nipple with his tongue.

She barely registered that she hit her head against the bookcase when the sheer intensity of this sudden onslaught struck her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed onto his shoulders in a mad attempt to somehow anchor herself in this vortex of pure need, but it didn’t seem to help much as the feelings were only renewed when he began playing with her other breast. She’d ignored her libido for far too long, trying to suppress wanting Malfoy by not acknowledging the fantasies, and now it was all coming out.

He groaned against her flesh. “Granger... don’t ever fucking tell me again that you don’t want this.”

“I don’t,” she whispered. Part of her really didn't. Unfortunately, that wasn't the part currently in control of her body.

He straightened, looking her in the eyes for what seemed like ages and then he sighed. “Yeah, nor me,” he muttered. “But what are we going to do about it?”

“Make it go away,” she replied, before she pulled his head closer for a searing kiss. She might not want this, but she _needed_ it. And if he was willing to go this far for his own personal gain, she didn't see any reason to spare him.

He didn’t hesitate in following her lead, pushing her more firmly against the bookcase. She could feel the shelves dig into her neck, her shoulders and her back, but she didn’t care. She wanted nothing more than to burn this need out of her.

She tried to push his underwear down, but it was awkward from her position and she made very little progress. She growled with discontent.

“Easy,” he murmured.

She growled again and squirmed.

He finally took the hint and, carefully balancing her, stepped out of his pants with minimal awkwardness. She approved of what she couldn’t miss feeling the pressure of, now that it had been freed. Not that she’d really been able to avoid noticing it before, but now she could more easily slide a hand down between them and caress the warm, soft flesh of his erection. She couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” he asked, slightly breathless.

“Your erection is soft.” She was, of course, referring to the silky feel of the skin, but it amused her to phrase it that way.

He stared at her. “Do me a favour, Granger—don’t speak.”

She shrugged. She’d thought it was funny. “Then do me a favour, Malfoy—make me speechless.”

She could immediately see that he accepted the challenge in the way his eyes fired up and he pushed against her, making her have to extricate her hand if she didn’t want it squished. Pity. She'd liked the feel of him. Without another word, he bent to kiss her again, making her unable to speak in the most literal sense. Then he moved his left hand from her thigh and under her, to caress her between the legs without getting his hand caught between them. She knew he could feel just how wet she was, because it would be physically impossible for him not to, and she suspected he liked it from the way he ground against her.

This was _exactly_ what she wanted. She barely even registered the shelves at her back any longer.

Suddenly he slipped a few fingers under the edge of her knickers and she jumped—at first because it tickled a little, and then because those fingers entered her without warning. Swiftly, she was filled out by them, and he was using his thumb to massage her clit, making it all so very intense that she couldn’t keep from moaning out loud.

He allowed her to break the kiss and whispered in her ear, “That’s right. That’s all I want to hear from you at the moment...”

If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she would’ve got him back for that comment somehow, but as it was, she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone put it into words. “Malfoy!” she gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Please...”

“Begging is acceptable too,” he added, and damn if she couldn’t hear the smirk.

She wanted to retaliate, she really did, but all she could manage was another ragged, "Please..." that had him angling his fingers in a way that felt far more intense, and kissing her deeply until she couldn't take it any longer.

With a broken whimper, she arched against him, mindless in the throes of her climax.

It wasn't until her brain was somewhat functioning again that she noticed how she'd grabbed hold of his head and had forcefully pulled it towards her, to _that_ spot at the base of her neck. He'd obliged, placing his lips on her skin, sucking lightly and making her dizzy with additional pleasure.

Great. Now he knew one of her true weak spots. At least he didn't know about the one behind her knee. Yet.

He ran his lips and tongue up her neck to find her mouth again, taking what little of her breath she'd regained and making her quite lightheaded in the process, although she suspected that the lack of oxygen only played a minor part in this. Then, before she'd had any chance to regain her equilibrium, she felt his hand move away to tear her knickers, so he could get them off without her changing position. His intentions were clear. He was going to take her. _Now_. Finally. She held her breath as he carefully moved his forearm under her thigh, lifting it up, spreading her legs wider for him, and slowly pushed into her. Her non-existent breath caught once more, as she felt him smoothly begin to move inside her. She was highly sensitised and extremely well-lubricated, so it was easy for him to move deeply. She had to strangle the urge to immediately squirm against him for more.

He moaned against her ear, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The urgency was in his movements, the way he'd barely allowed her to adjust to her new position before he'd begun, making it impossible for her to ever gain enough oxygen. It had really been too long. She hadn't remembered how good it could be. The shelves were still biting into her neck and back, but she simply didn't _care_. All she wanted was more, more, more...

And he was enthusiastically giving it to her.

His thrusts became rougher, less considerate. She didn't care. It wasn't consideration she was looking for in him. What she wanted was _this_ —pure pleasure brought on by a need too great to control. He moaned again, the fingers of his one hand digging into her buttock. It would leave marks, but she didn't care about that either. She only grabbed on to him for dear life and tried to keep up.

She wanted to kiss. She grabbed his neck and he obliged. The kiss itself was far from skilful on either side. It was raw, desperate, lustful—only aimed to heighten pleasure and, as such, served its purpose well.

"Fuck," he growled, breaking that contact, and she couldn't help the way that simple, guttural word affected her, driving her towards that inevitable point. He was getting there as well; she could feel it. He was losing what was left of his control, becoming almost punishing in the way he shoved her against the shelves as he blindly aimed for release.

She liked the savagery. It made her feel free and wanted in a way that she couldn't remember ever feeling before.

With a sound of part surprise and part pleasure, she felt her body begin to shudder and contract, and she quite literally lost her mind to the sensations for a little while, drawing a perfect blank. He made an answering muffled sound against her hair, and she felt his release inside her whilst his body completely tensed against hers.

For a little while, neither of them moved. They were both panting, trying to catch their breaths and get their bodies to stop humming with spent desire.

Then slowly, Draco let go of Hermione, and she slid down to her feet, flinching as the contact with the floor jarred new sore areas on her back. Oh, fun. She was probably going to bruise too.

"Sorry about the knickers," was the first and only thing he said.

"It's fine," she replied, awkwardly finding her clothes and doing her best to cover up. Something about being naked at this time simply seemed... wrong. They'd had sex. What came next, she had no idea. She wasn't used to one-offs, but more than that, she wasn't used to one-offs with people she needed to continue working with.

The silence was oppressive as they redressed.

"So..." she finally said. "That should take care of it?"

He shot her a dark look she didn't quite understand, but then he looked away. "It should."

"Good." Certainly, she was more exhausted than filled with want now.

But how would it be to work with him now? Was this truly the end of it, or would he try to use it?

And—her blood froze as she finally remembered something that shouldn't have been forgotten at all—what about Harry? How had she been able to reason that this would be a good idea when... oh, God. Oh, Merlin. She couldn't keep a secret like this _from_ Harry, but if she told him, it'd be over before it began, romantically, and their friendship might severely suffer as well. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to fix this?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Draco irritably said. His mood really seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. Wasn't having sex supposed to make your mood _better_?

"It's nothing," she muttered, quickly looking away and fiddling with her belt to mask the tears welling up in her eyes. She'd really done it this time. And for what? Sleeping with someone whose main goal was probably to crush her professionally. Very clever move, that.

"It's too late for that," he harshly said, identifying her mood if not her reasons. "It's done. Just be glad it's over."

Then he walked out without even a glance in her direction.

* * *

Hermione had counted on a full week to sort out her emotions and how to go about confessing to Harry, so when he already walked into her office three days later, it was a bit of a nasty shock to her system.

He walked straight up to her to give her a hug, so fortunately he never noticed her stunned reaction. Instead, he had the privilege of her flinching and pulling away when his arms, normally so warm and comforting to her, rubbed a few sore spots.

"What in the..." Harry muttered before he unceremoniously grabbed the collar of her robes and pulled, giving him a view down her upper back.

“Hey, boundaries!” she objected, squirming away from him, but not before he’d had an eyeful of the uppermost bruising.

“What happened?” he demanded, ignoring her protest.

“I fell,” was the first thing that popped into her mind and out of her mouth. Not the most original explanation, but sometimes the classics were classics for a reason. Falling was a good way to get bruised.

“Really,” Harry drawled, narrowing his eyes at her. “I’ve never seen such even horizontal bruising from a fall... Do tell how that happened.”

Hermione’s cheeks pinkened. He’d had a better look than she’d thought. The shelves of the bookcase had indeed left some rather unique marks on her back. “It was on a set of stairs,” she said. “I landed very unfortunately. Can we please stop talking about my clumsiness?”

“Why didn’t you see a Healer about it?”

“It’s just bruising, Harry. Besides, I was... embarrassed.” That much was certainly true.

Harry sighed and pulled out his wand. “I never knew you to halfway break your own neck for no reason,” he said, before muttering a few words.

Hermione instantly felt the throbbing in her back lessen.

Her eyes widened, and she fought back an urge to yank at her robes to see the difference. “I didn’t know you could do that, Harry!” She experimentally stretched a bit to the left, then the right, and up. "I knew I liked you for a reason!"

Harry shot her a crooked grin. “It’s good to know a few spells when you’re out in the field. If you’d like, I could teach you this one.”

She nodded. That might be useful—although, of course, not for the same purpose. Oh, Merlin. She still had to tell him what had happened, even if she didn’t plan to include that this was how she’d received the bruising.

Somehow she didn’t think Malfoy would survive the revelation that he’d inadvertently hurt her like that if Harry ever learned his name.

“Coffee? Tea? Lunch?” Harry asked.

She slowly nodded. Now was probably best. Before she made a mess of things by keeping too many secrets for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
> Hermione was gagging. This man... this... this... person... How could she have allowed him to touch her only a week ago?
> 
> She was wide-eyed and clutching her mouth with her hand when Draco turned the corner and spotted her. He stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment, he merely stared at her, as if unable to comprehend her presence.
> 
> "So you heard that," he finally said.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione slowly stirred the bitter, dark brew with her spoon. She preferred tea, really, but coffee was better when she wasn’t sleeping so well. It was hard to sleep with her conscience weighing her down and the stinging ache in her back constantly reminding her what she had to feel guilty for.

Harry was quietly watching her. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she didn’t have the courage to try and find out. Instead, she merely kept stirring. It was a bit early for lunch, so the small café was almost empty around them.

“I hurried back,” he said, “to keep you from changing your mind. I was still too late, wasn’t I?”

Startled, she looked up.

He sighed and shook his head. “I knew it wouldn’t take much. You’re afraid of this going the way of you and Ron, aren’t you? I don’t know what to tell you, except that I’m not him. I can’t imagine it being the same.”

“That’s not it,” she muttered, wiping her clammy hands on her robes. “I mean, not exactly. I know you’re not Ron. I know you’ll handle things differently from him, and I will definitely handle things differently from how I did. I know that we’ve both tried this before and won’t let it come to that. It’s... something else.”

“You know that when Ginny left me to pursue her own dreams, her own career, I let her go. I’m still friends with her. I see her at least once a month when possible.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t be afraid.”

Hermione felt her throat close up, and she couldn’t really do anything but shake her head in reply. She _was_ afraid, but not of taking the jump. She was afraid what Harry would think of her when she told him what she’d done. She knew her fears about their friendship weren’t unfounded. Ginny had left Harry to pursue goals that she’d felt were incompatible with making a life with him. Hermione had shagged someone else because she couldn’t control herself. There was a _slight_ difference there, and she didn't think this difference would be lost on Harry.

“Tell me,” he quietly said.

Hermione felt the clog in her throat move up and flood her eyes. She blinked furiously, trying to get rid of the moisture. She would not weep. She would _not_. She’d made her bed and now she had to lie in it.

“I did something stupid,” she finally forced out, sounding about as pathetic as she felt. She shot him a pleading look.

He froze, and the look on his face was one of complete shock and denial. “Something stupid...” he echoed.

“It... I just... It wasn’t even...” She cut herself off, unable to justify it.

“I’m... afraid you’ll have to be more specific. To avoid misunderstandings, you see,” he muttered.

“You’re not misunderstanding me, Harry.”

“Another man?” he whispered.

She slowly nodded.

“You... kissed someone?”

She stared down into her coffee again, her silence saying it all.

“Do you love him?” he asked, sounding tired and weak, like this short conversation was completely draining him. “Do you want to be with him rather than me?”

She looked up at him and caught a glint of the pain in his eyes before he averted them to hide it. She couldn’t recall ever feeling this rotten in her entire life. Here she’d just hurt him with her betrayal, and he was asking what _she_ wanted? She'd almost feel better if he were furious with her, calling her names.

“No and no,” she replied, making his eyes snap back to hers and narrow in a confused frown. “I can’t even explain it, Harry. It was just... unresolved. It should’ve stayed that way but... obviously it didn’t, and I can’t lie to you about something like this.”

Her throat was closing up again and she had to stop talking to swallow.

“You’re not going to keep seeing him?” Harry asked.

She closed her eyes. “No.” No, she hadn’t even slept with someone she planned to be with. Somehow, that made it worse in her own eyes. She’d ruined a deep and lasting friendship, as well as the beginning of something that could've been amazing, for _nothing_.

Harry cleared his throat as if to say something, but then he fell quiet. A moment later, he cleared it again. “We weren’t together,” he said.

Hermione’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“Technically... you were free to do as you pleased.” He looked down at his hands.

Hermione was appalled. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Are you saying you don’t care?” she asked to make certain.

His hands knotted. “Do I look like I don’t care, Hermione?” he asked with what seemed to be some effort.

“Then what are you saying?”

“You had your doubts. Our relationship was vague. You had unresolved... feelings...” He looked out the window. “And I don’t want to know any more about that. I don’t want to know any details. I certainly don’t want to know who he is. If you say it’s over, I believe you. It doesn't have to be for us. Over, I mean.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “Harry...” she finally managed.

He looked directly at her again. “I’ve wanted this far too badly for far too long to allow this to get in the way. I know you. You’d never deliberately hurt me, or anyone else for that matter. You were honest with me and I appreciate that. All I need to know is that you still want this to happen between us.”

“Of course I do!” she immediately said. “But are you completely certain you could...”

Harry smiled at her, and the smile was genuine, if a bit brittle. “I trust you.”

Hermione nodded, not at all sure why she was nodding. This was unexpected. She hadn't even prepared for the possibility that Harry might actually _forgive_ her. “Then, maybe in order to avoid grey areas in the future, we should... make it official?” she asked. She was probably asking too much, but if they were to do this, they might as well do it properly. Make it impossible to disregard.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You think grey areas will be an issue?”

“No,” she admitted. “Not really.” She would never make the same mistake again. Ever.

He looked thoughtful for a while. Then he said, “We could do that. I might feel better knowing that people know you belong with me.”

Yes. Hermione would feel better with that knowledge as well. Not that anyone of any importance was likely to take notice, since nobody had any romantic interest in her at the moment, but... she’d feel better. She'd feel off-limits. Just in case.

* * *

One might have thought that going out with Harry would be awkward after this very loaded conversation. One would have been right for about an hour of their first date. After that, everything wasn’t _fine_ , but it was much closer to normal. Harry and Hermione did, after all, have a long and complicated history that made it almost impossible not to slip back into a friendly and relaxed way of communicating.

Hermione had no problem going with ‘friendly and relaxed’ for now. Easing into things was probably a good idea, no matter what, and it had only been a day since she’d confessed her mistake to Harry.

So when he kissed her at the end of that first night, gently but firmly, and not at all in a way one could misconstrue as _friendly_ , Hermione was stunned. But only for a second. Then the warmth began spreading in her chest, and she felt almost giddy.

It was over almost before it began and Harry bid her an adorably flustered goodnight, leaving her with her own besotted happiness.

* * *

Work was a nightmare. Or, rather, work was fine, but the threat of seeing Malfoy again was a nightmare.

Hermione would do anything not to have to look her mistake in the face again. Fortunately, he seemed to be of a similar opinion, since she hadn’t actually seen him since that day. Not seeing Malfoy for a full week was something of an achievement, actually. She couldn’t remember that ever having happened before.

Except that one time he’d been travelling, of course.

Well, no one was travelling now. In fact, there were parchments she’d sent over days ago that he needed to sign. She needed them by the end of the day. or the whole issue might be held up for another month. Hermione weighed her options. She could wait and hope he got to it in time, send him a reminder and hope he responded, or go and get the parchments in person.

She knew what option made the most sense, but she still hesitated. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have another week pass without seeing Malfoy?

Yes. Yes, it would. It was always lovely to not see Malfoy, but unfortunately, Hermione was neither a coward nor bad at her job. She needed his signature today. Getting it shouldn't be too hard. Chances were, he'd give it to her, no questions asked, simply to make her go away.

That thought cheered her, and she decided to track him down straight away.

Naturally, he wasn't at his office when she got there. It was disappointing, but hardly surprising. He'd never been afraid to go and seek out anyone he needed to talk to in person, rather than constantly send out notes. In fact, that was largely _why_ she herself had been seeing so much of him. Obviously, he'd now decided to avoid her, but she was for the most part fine with that. He could avoid her as much as he wanted to, as long as her work got done.

She chose a different path back through the maze that formed the halls of the Ministry, only nursing a vague hope that she might accidentally run into him this way. But for once, she was lucky. She saw him long before he saw her. He was trapped at the end of the corridor, looking like all he wanted was a way out, whilst the young witch talking to him was clearly agitated, making big hand gestures, as she seemed to be trying to convince him of the importance of something.

The whole scene gave Hermione pause. It seemed... personal. Like something she definitely shouldn't interrupt. Finally, Draco seemed to have had enough and simply brushed past the witch, coming straight towards Hermione, who panicked and ducked around the corner before he could see her.

She immediately regretted the impulse, but before she could show herself, she heard the witch catching up with Draco only a few feet away, all but forcing him to a halt.

"But what are you going to _do_ about it?" she asked.

"I told you," he said, sounding rather annoyed. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she almost shrieked. "How can you say that? Do you have any idea what it could—"

"Of course I do, you silly bint!" he growled. "But it's only been eight days. You can't _know_ anything yet, so why bother panicking?"

Against her own better judgement, Hermione did some mental calculations. Eight days. That brought her back to Tuesday, the day she'd met Harry at the restaurant wearing her risqué dress. Huh.

It was also the day after Draco had snogged her on her desk, as well as the day before he'd shagged her up against a bookcase, so naturally, she was suddenly very interested in knowing what had happened eight days ago. Did it have something to do with her? Something that might affect her?

"You really don't care that I could be pregnant?"

The words hit Hermione like a bucket of ice, completely disorienting her for a few precious seconds.

"Of course I care! I don't want to have a brat with some brainless twit who assured me several times we'd be fine, but what exactly do you expect me to do?" There was a brief silence and then he suddenly made a sound of realisation. "You really thought this might be enough to get at my family's money, didn't you?" He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "I don't personally care that much about the money, to be honest, but I'll warn you that my parents would be more likely to try to take any progeny away from you than give you anything. So don't even think about trying to capitalise on it. It won't work. And don't worry, nothing could have happened that night. I was always on to you; I just hoped I was wrong."

Hermione was gagging as she heard the witch leave in a huff. This man... this... this... person... How could she have allowed him to touch her only a week ago?

She was wide-eyed and clutching her mouth with her hand when Draco turned the corner and spotted her. He stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment, he merely stared at her, as if unable to comprehend her presence.

"So you heard that," he finally said.

"I'm not as surprised as I look," she managed to choke out. No, it wasn't surprise that was currently making her unable to stop hugging herself. It was pure loathing, and it was all directed inwards at the witch who'd ever nurtured a soft spot for this wizard, even if the soft spot had only been physical.

"I imagine not." He hesitated. "It sounded worse—"

She held up a hand. "No. Really don't do that."

His jaw clenched, his eyes once more burning with that irrational anger he seemed to feel towards her most of the time. "She shouldn't have tried that with me. Don't think she's the first witch to ever—"

"Which part of _don't_ was hard to understand?"

"Besides," he continued, completely disregarding her, "I'm not stupid enough to fall for something like that. I always use extra protection. Always."

Hermione shook her head. He was still a vile human being, and one who was missing the most important point at that.

"What?" he said, looking wary.

"Eight days..." she hissed.

He flinched as realisation hit, but then he merely straightened to the most arrogant and violence-inviting pose she could imagine. "So?"

She couldn't speak past the revulsion clogging up her throat. _So?_ Everything he'd said about how he'd wanted her in that dress, how he'd waited and would continue to wait... Nothing but lies to make her throw caution to the wind and sleep with him.

He'd probably lured that witch in a similar way. What he said about her ulterior motives didn't make sense. If she'd been calculating enough to try to become pregnant on purpose, then she should be calculating enough to not reveal her hand until she was certain. No. This was all on Draco and how horribly he treated women.

She gave him a look of pure disgust and then turned her back on him. He wasn't worth her time or effort. She was merely happy that she'd never nursed feelings of the more tender variety for him.

She hadn't walked far before she felt his hand closing on her arm. She tried to throw it off, but he kept her in an iron grip.

"Get off me," she growled.

"What did you expect?" he asked. "No, really, what did you expect? That I'd stay celibate until you _might_ decide I was worth a fuck? Is that it? Four months, Granger. You've been wavering, saying no but sending me long looks, for _four months_. That's a hell of a long time to wait for a possible one-off."

She shook her head again, refusing to even have this conversation. His grip tightened on her arm.

"Stop being so fucking sanctimonious!" he said, a bit too loudly for her liking. "Don't you think I heard about you and Potter? I assume that means you were on a _date_ that night at the restaurant and you're nothing but some cheating slag, yet _I'm_ the bad person for getting drunk and having sex with someone who was perfectly free and willing?!"

That's when she slapped him. She didn't mean to, not really, but what he was saying was true and she couldn't handle it. So she punished him. Because she could. Because he was right. No matter what Harry said, she knew Draco was right. She'd cheated on Harry. And she'd cheated with someone she didn't love and who she didn't even share the physical connection with that she'd thought.

It had served no real purpose. That mutual need had been a figment of her imagination. He'd had sex with someone else less than twenty-four hours earlier, and she felt dirtier than she ever had before.

He stared at her for a few moments and then he sneered, "I'm glad I didn't wait around for it. It wasn't anything worth waiting for." Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her in shambles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
> For a while, Hermione simply stared down at her food, all of her appetite gone. "What's the sodding _point_!?" she then hissed. She was about to get up and leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. She stared up to see a very unexpected blond wizard, currently not even looking at her but rather seeming like he was checking on everyone else in the restaurant, keeping her in her seat. "Malfoy?" she asked, frowning.
> 
> "Smile," he said.
> 
> "What?"
> 
> "Smile. Like you're happy with your life. Do it." His voice brooked no argument.


	4. Chapter 4

Pushing Draco from her mind was a lot easier than getting over her general guilt, Hermione soon found. She knew Harry could sense her struggle even though she did her best to hide it, but fortunately he didn't mention it. She didn't know what she'd do if he did. Instead, she went out of her way to try and be the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girlfriend that Harry deserved. She waited patiently for him, whenever he had to go away, and put everything aside to spend time with him, whenever he was back.

And since Harry was rather high-profile, she made an extra effort to smile and be pretty and charming, whenever he took her to an important function. She had to show the world that she wasn't a bad choice, in spite of knowing better deep inside.

"You don't have to do all that," Harry finally said one day as they were mingling amongst the most boring crowd wizarding Britain had to offer.

"Do what?" she asked, feeling like her face might crack from her smile.

"Act so chipper all the time. It's all right to be a person." He grabbed two drinks from a passing tray and offered her one.

She flushed and gratefully accepted the glass to cover up her embarrassment. "You think I'm too much."

"I think you don't need to try so hard. You're already perfect as you are."

That was a lie and he had to know it. However, all she could manage to say was, "Nobody is perfect."

"Hermione..." He hesitated. "Come on." He grabbed her hand, his fingers entwining with hers in a way that made her heart flutter, and began quickly weaving his way towards the door with her in tow.

It was all Hermione could manage to get a gulp of her champagne before she had to quickly abandon the rest on a side table. She didn't know what Harry had in mind, but she didn't fancy taking their host's champagne flutes with her. That would simply be rude. Harry put his own down on a tray in passing, and then they were out of the room.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, a little breathless.

He looked at her for a long moment. "I want to leave," he then said.

Hermione blinked. "But I thought you said this event was very important for—"

"I know, but I'd rather be alone with you. When was the last time we were alone?"

Hermione blushed again. They hadn't _truly_ been alone since sometime before they began seeing each other. They were taking it slowly, after all, and being alone together also meant dealing with expectations. She looked away and caught a glimpse of someone blond that made her look again.

_Malfoy._

He was looking straight at her. When she caught his eye, he didn't look away, but his expression tightened with anger. He was watching her, gauging her relationship with Harry, and not even making a secret of it.

She broke eye contact, unable to deal with him at the moment.

"Hermione?" Harry prodded. "You _are_ ok with that, aren't you?"

She slowly nodded, forcing her thoughts back to the matter in hand. Harry. Going home with Harry. Her boyfriend. The person she loved.

He smiled and pulled her closer for an embrace, Disapparating with her to the sitting room of his home. It was a room that continuously startled her with its very un-Harry stylish and unlived-in design. The one time she'd expressed those thoughts, he'd merely shrugged and told her that he didn't consider it a home as much as a place to sleep, so he'd simply paid someone to make it look nice for when the reporters wanted to interview him in a 'private' setting.

It did look nice, but it really lacked the feeling of comfort and relaxation that Hermione appreciated in a home, so she usually suggested they go somewhere else. He came to her flat a lot. In fact, the last time she'd been at Harry's, Ron had been there as well. And Ginny. It felt a little bit wrong to have neither Ron _nor_ Ginny there today, but then, so many things had changed.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, without releasing his hold on her.

"That it's odd to be here without..." She trailed off, suddenly uncertain if this was inappropriate.

"They say the same about you," he said, reminding her that he was far friendlier with both their exes than she was. She couldn't help feeling a bit of resentment, like they were all congregating behind her back. But then she reminded herself that it had been her own choice to keep a bit of distance from Ron. It had been hard for her to look at him and see anything but dashed dreams wearing a stranger's face.

"How are they?" she forced herself to ask.

"Fine... They're both fine..." Harry said. "A little surprised about us, but fine."

Hermione blinked. Somehow she hadn't considered that Harry might have told either Ron or Ginny about their relationship, without even mentioning it to her. Was she really that much of an outsider to their friendship now? "Do you see them often?"

Harry shrugged. "About once a month, if possible. You're welcome to join us next time."

Join them. Like the outsider she apparently _was_. She looked away. "No... No, that's all right."

He placed the tip of his index finger under her chin and tipped it up, forcing her to look at him. "Yes, I talk to them about you. I was worried how Ron might feel about my interest in you. Ginny too, but mostly Ron. I had to tell him before I did anything. Do you know what he said?"

"Um, 'stay away from that wacky witch'?"

"No. He said I'd be lucky to have you."

Hermione's lips quirked at that absurdity. "He didn't." There was too much residual bitterness between Ron and her for it to ever be possible for him to say such kind things about her.

"No," Harry admitted. "Actually he said I didn't stand a chance with you."

"That's not the same thing." Although still surprisingly mild.

"Who cares? What he said was wrong anyway."

She couldn't help but laugh at that, and when Harry pulled her closer and kissed her, she was happy and relaxed and had forgotten all about not liking the decor and feeling like an outsider. His arms were strong and his lips were warm, and she felt like the luckiest woman alive to be where she was right this minute. Somehow her arms made their way up to wrap around his head and pull him down even closer as she deepened the kiss.

She'd never felt this way before, not even with Ron. She felt shy and bashful and excited in a way she hadn't even experienced as a teenager, but on top of that... she felt a burning need to simply be closer. She'd waited so long for her relationship with Harry to be a reality, and she felt like waiting even a second longer would be too much for her to take.

Suddenly the world tilted and she broke away with a gasp to stare at him in confusion.

"I'll say," he muttered, looking as startled as she felt.

A quick glance around told her that they'd somehow toppled onto his sofa. Considering that she was on top, she'd probably been the instigator. Her face turned a bright scarlet at what he must be thinking about her now.

He lifted one of his hands to caress her cheek. "I love it when you get embarrassed like that."

She positioned herself a bit more comfortably on her knees with a leg on either side of Harry's waist and her hands on his shoulders, before asking, "Why?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's because it's usually combined with you doing something very sweet and sexy. Like the other day when you were touching my... leg." He grinned.

She could feel her blush deepen until she must have been completely crimson from the neck up. "That really wasn't on purpose."

"Oh, I'll believe you." But he kept grinning, belying his statement.

So in order to shut him up, she kissed him again. And when he didn't immediately stop grinning, she kissed him again and again, until he forgot he was laughing at her and his hands began caressing her back. And then she too lost herself in how nice these kisses and caresses felt.

At least until he was quite suddenly pushing her away, gasping her name to get her attention.

She was quite reluctant to stop and pay attention, lost as she was in the soft dizziness she'd come to associate with Harry.

"Hermione," he hoarsely repeated. "Enough." He reached down to gently grab her wrists and remove her hands from his naked torso. Huh. She really ought to get these memory lapses checked since she wasn't certain how that had happened either. All she knew was that she was sorry to lose the feel of warm skin over taut muscles beneath her fingertips.

"What's wrong?" she managed to ask.

"Nothing... absolutely nothing..." He swallowed and gave her a shaky smile. "You're lovely, you know that?"

_But?_

"Why are you stopping me, then?" Her voice was so quiet she didn't know if he could hear her, but she wasn't completely certain she wanted the answer.

"It's just... not tonight." He reached out to touch her cheek again, but she dodged his hand, finding _that_ particular caress too paternalistic.

"Why not?"

He let his hand drop. "I thought we agreed to take things slowly."

"Right." That made so much sense. They were taking things slowly so nobody would get hurt, yet when things were going well, he _chose to hurt her_ with a rejection. Brilliant logic! So, yes, maybe she really shouldn't have been this upset when he had a perfectly valid reason to stop her, but she didn't understand why he didn't want to be intimate with her. Was it because he hadn't forgiven her yet? Did he somehow find her tainted? Would they _ever_ get past this?

She made a move to get off him, but, sensing her hurt, he grabbed her arm before she could and forced her to look at him. "Can you honestly say you're not trying to prove something to me?" he softly asked. "Like with that Perfect Girlfriend act when we're out... Can you honestly say you’re not still trying to make up for what you did?"

She looked away. She couldn’t. Not honestly. "You don’t want me?”

He sighed. "Of course I do. But ideally we have the rest of our lives to make love, so why have the very first time in a way that's anything less than perfect? Let’s wait until we can realise our full potential."

She frowned. That day certainly sounded mythical. "And when would that be?"

"You'll need to accept that I forgave you first."

At his words, a jolt of anxiety at entering dangerous territory went through her and she stared at him with wide eyes. "I do accept it!"

"Then you have to forgive yourself." His words were very patient, the very opposite of the sense of desperation she was trying to tamp down.

She swallowed hard, trying to swallow the panic with it. "How can I?" she whispered.

"Because I did. Because it was better for you to do what you did, than for you to wonder about that bloke forever or until he tempted you later. Because I'm relieved that he's history now."

She stared into his eyes for the longest time, her urge to burst into tears slowly seeping away until there was only trust, calmness and even joy left. He really had forgiven her. And if he could forgive her, then shouldn't she be able to let it go as well?

The sense of relief at having this burden lifted from her shoulders was almost overwhelming and she couldn't help but smile.

She finally felt free again. Now they could start anew.

* * *

Harry soon had to go away again, but even so, Hermione was happier than she could recall ever being before. She found herself whistling off-key at work and smiling at odd moments.

Even seeing Malfoy around couldn't put a dent in it. Of course, his response to seeing her was merely a disgusted sneer and the words, "And now you're happy. I don't like it."

It only made her laugh. Nothing could reach her in her delirious happiness. _Nothing_.

It took a few days before Malfoy pronounced her 'tolerable to be around' again, and another few days after that, before she began fidgeting and frowning and constantly checking for owls.

A mere few days after _that_ , Malfoy threw up his hands and left, announcing that he officially gave up on working with her until Harry was back. Or dead. Whichever would render her calmer.

Harry had said he'd only be gone two days, but by now it had been more than a week without a word. He couldn't exactly message her if he were undercover or working amongst Muggles, but she couldn't help worrying that something had happened.

Then, at last, her worries were all put to shame as Harry finally sent her a note to let her know he was all right and to apologise for taking longer than expected. He needed a good night's sleep, it said, and he had plans for Saturday that he didn't feel right changing. But maybe they could go out on Sunday?

Hermione couldn't help the crushing disappointment at only getting a note and not actually being able to see Harry yet, but then she reprimanded herself. Of course he couldn't come and see her right away. After so long on a case, _of course_ he would be exhausted. And they weren't exactly at a stage where he could simply stay the night with her. And, yes, he had other plans, but he was entitled to a life of his own! Maybe those plans were important. Really, what was she feeling so upset about? They would see each other soon. They were adults, after all, weren't they?

Only, by the time it was Sunday, she received another note. There was another case and Harry predicted he’d be gone a week.

She threw it in the dustbin and began drinking.

* * *

On Tuesday, Hermione was back at work, a lot more subdued than she had been in a while. Not only was she completely gutted about not seeing Harry, but she was embarrassed that she'd had to take a sick day the previous day due to her poor constitution.

She still wasn't quite up to snuff.

Malfoy came strolling into her office with his arms full of parchments, his nose all but buried in one he was reading, and then stopped abruptly when he saw her. "But he's _back_ ," he said.

"He left again," she managed to reply without sounding _too_ pathetic, she thought.

He groaned. "Ah, fuck." Then he turned right back around and walked out without ever telling her what the parchments were.

She spent a long time staring at the doorway, trying to be amused at Malfoy's reaction, but all she could think was, _he won't even stay to mock me_.

* * *

Saturday found Hermione reluctantly getting ready for another date, whilst keeping an eye on her window, checking for last minute owls. None seemed to come, however, and she found herself slowly relaxing and beginning to look forward to finally being with Harry again.

He'd apologised profusely for being gone so much and had assured her that it was atypical, before inviting her to the restaurant where he'd confessed his feelings to her. When she'd objected, saying it would be too expensive, he'd only said that she deserved an extravagant night out to make up for lost time.

Everything she _actually_ deserved considered, she really had no grounds to be so hurt and angry, so she decided to let it go and enjoy the evening.

She had put on her prettiest—though not quite as sexy as the last she'd worn to this restaurant—evening dress in the hopes of reminding Harry that he'd always have something to come home to. Someone. She wasn't completely certain how a _dress_ would remind him of that, but at least he'd be able to tell that she was making an effort.

When she arrived at the restaurant, Harry was already there. It would have feel like déjà vu, if he hadn't been far more composed this time. He was very attentive and continued to be apologetic, and within ten minutes, she became almost giddy again from his mere presence.

She really had the sweetest boyfriend she could possibly have. Not only that, the way he was looking at her more than suggested that the dress was a success. And the way he took her hand and pressed the knuckles to his lips made her determined that tonight they would be going home together. She'd missed him, he'd missed her, and what could be more natural?

Of course, as was always the case when she thought things were finally going her way, the universe disagreed with her.

About halfway into the main course, a message arrived for Harry. One that made his expression go from happy and relaxed to stony and focused within three seconds of laying eyes on it.

"I have to go," was all he told her once he'd finished reading it.

He didn't even take a moment to consider it or try to find a way out but simply announced the necessity of going. Hermione knew she shouldn't take that personally, but she did. The disappointment was staggering.

"I see," she said. "Well, good luck." It was all she could do not to fling accusations at him. Instead, she kept her eyes down and repeated all the reasons why he of course had to go and she was being unreasonable in her head.

He reached over to cover her hand with his. "This one won't take long. We can probably do something together tomorrow."

She withdrew her hand, still not looking at him. "Don't make any promises you can't keep."

He sat up straighter. "All right... I'm sorry. We'll talk about it when I get back. Order anything you want on me. I'll see you soon." Then he got up and quickly walked out to be the hero yet another day.

For a while, Hermione simply stared down at her food, all of her appetite gone. "What's the sodding _point_!?" she then hissed. She was about to get up and leave when she felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. She stared up to see a very unexpected blond wizard, currently not even looking at her but rather seeming like he was checking on everyone else in the restaurant, keeping her in her seat. "Malfoy?" she asked, frowning.

"Smile," he said.

"What?"

"Smile. Like you're happy with your life. Do it." His voice brooked no argument.

She managed a grimace that could perhaps approach a smile. "What's the meaning of this?"

He finally looked down at her and seemed to accept her efforts, because he removed his hand and strolled over to Harry's abandoned seat where he sat down, made a face at Harry's leftovers before pushing the plate away, and then finally looked up at her. "You can't be that transparent, Granger. Not in a place like this."

She kept her fake smile on in the hopes that it would eventually annoy him. "Harry has told me not to pretend."

"Yes, well, _Harry_ is the one who will suffer for it if you _don't_ pretend. This place is ripe with gossips and reporters."

"And you think it helps that you're sitting in his place now?"

He shrugged. "We're co-workers. It works a hell of a lot better that I come over and socialise than it would for you to dissolve into tears and run off. That _did_ seem to be your plan, after all." Waiters removed the dirty plates, supplied him with fresh dinner service, and took his order before Malfoy asked, "Did he leave you with the bill?"

"Of course not! He knows I couldn't afford that. Whatever I want is on him."

He smirked and motioned for the waiter to come back and said, "She'll have your most expensive wine."

The smile was beginning to make Hermione's cheeks ache. "Not even trying to impress me with vintage, Malfoy?"

He shrugged. "I never particularly cared what my wine was called. My palate is apparently severely lacking."

"Still, it could be a neat trick for those witches of yours." Witches that she certainly didn't count herself amongst, but he might for all she knew.

His lips tightened, but all he said was, "I have better tricks than that." He accepted a glass of wine and lifted it to his lips. "Smile."

Damn it, she hadn't even noticed that her smile had been faltering, but she renewed her effort. "This has to look fake."

"It does," he agreed, putting his glass down. "But nobody is close enough to know the difference."

"Why do you even care?"

"On the whole, I don't. But I really need to be able to do some work with you soon, and it appears to be impossible when you're depressed. At least when you're happy you can _work_ , even though I can't stand being around you." He again motioned for her to _smile_.

She tried for her most deadly sweet smile. "This doesn't change my mood in the least."

He shot her a tight smile. "Certainly it does. I overheard him saying it wouldn't be that long this time, and as soon as he's back, you'll have forgotten all about being left here tonight. So, really, this is only damage control, so the journalists don't start getting ideas and hounding you. Okay, I think you can stop now, before they begin to think you have a thing for me."

She completely dropped the act and scowled at him. "Weren't you _with_ someone tonight?"

"As luck would have it, no."

"I believe that to be a statistical impossibility."

He sighed. "I don't really give a damn what you believe, Granger. I do eat alone sometimes. As do you, apparently. _Often_."

That stung, so she shut up and stared down at her food that was probably cold now, not that she honestly cared.

Some time later, when Malfoy had received his food without her looking up or acknowledging him in any way, he sighed and put down his cutlery. "I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean to be so harsh."

"Yes, you did," she tonelessly answered.

"Yes, I did. But it was a thoughtless impulse. I didn't mean to actually make you feel bad. You need to at least pretend you're enjoying yourself, or I have no idea what they'll write about you. It _will_ affect Potter, whatever they come up with."

She finally looked up at him, her mouth quirked into an amused half-smile whilst her eyes remained dead-serious. "You always aim to hurt. It's like you're physically incapable of not doing that."

"I'm helping you now, aren't I?" For a moment he actually seemed bruised by her accusation, but then it was as if he shrugged it off and he was back to being unflappable.

Hermione only wished for his lack of emotions.

"I don't even understand why that is," she said. "The work excuse is stupid. You can always send your things over without coming to see me. You don't seem to be trying to gain any advantage over me professionally either, which was what I first feared. I know you don't like me on any level, so it's not to make me _feel_ any better. I also know you don't even want to sleep with me since you said last time wasn't worth it. So what are you trying to do here, Malfoy?"

He picked up his cutlery again and slowly resumed eating. "I didn't say it wasn't worth it, I said it wasn't worth _waiting for_."

She frowned, confused at the way he was splitting hairs. "Not a big difference."

"A difference nonetheless, all things considered." But he didn't elaborate. "And I'm literally only trying to do a bit of damage control."

"Why?"

His lips tightened again, and he looked rather displeased. "I'm not sure, actually. It was a spur of the moment thing. Also, it saved me the wait for a table."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she didn't really want him to leave. Even talking to him beat being alone and feeling miserable. "You really hate eating alone, don't you?"

"Apparently so," he easily conceded.

She grabbed the bottle of wine, deciding to completely ignore the flaws in that explanation. He was here to share a meal and that was _all_ he was here for. She would let him because she was one dinner partner short, but that was _all_ she would let him do. It was a crowded restaurant. It wasn't like those inconvenient memories of him shoving her up against a bookcase and making her love the feeling of him pounding into her over and over again could do any real damage.

"Well, by all means," she said. "Your meal is on Harry too. He'll love that." Maybe that was a little petty, but at least she now had someone to talk to for the rest of the evening. Wouldn't Harry want that?

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, but then merely pursed his lips and shook his head. She couldn't help but laugh. Against all odds, she was already feeling a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
>  
> 
> She snorted and looked away, nervously picking at her dress to keep her hands occupied. "So, what are you doing here? I mean, why are you living with them?"
> 
> Malfoy shrugged, studying the ceiling again. "Oh, nothing important. Simply considering marrying their daughter, that sort of thing."
> 
> That took Hermione completely by surprise. For a moment, she lost her breath and forgot all her own worries. " _What?_ "
> 
> Her shrill voice made him wince. "She doesn't exactly know it yet, though, so it would be much appreciated if you didn't tell anyone."
> 
> " _What?_ " she said, even louder than before.


	5. Chapter 5

To Harry's credit, he never mentioned the cost of the _two_ bottles of wine that he had to know that Hermione had shared with Malfoy of all people. That was a very wise relationship decision from his end since Hermione was feeling fairly volatile these days.

Instead, he sent her flowers. Forget-me-nots. Naturally, Malfoy walked in just as Hermione was staring at the luxurious bouquet on her desk.

"What?" he said, a little irritable-sounding. "They were out of roses?"

She looked up at him and attempted to blink her tears away as she beamed. "Forget-me-not is my birth flower. I told him how I'd always loved them _years_ ago! Who would have thought he'd remember?"

Malfoy stared at her for a second, then groaned and rolled his eyes, once again turning on his heel. "I think I'll refrain from coming here for a bit!" he called out, more as an afterthought than anything else.

Hermione didn't care. Harry had remembered her birth flower.

* * *

It was possible to forgive and forget a lot when your boyfriend made up for it by being so incredibly thoughtful and sweet, Hermione decided. Not only had he sent her flowers, but he'd shown up at her flat to cook her favourite meal for her and even wash the dishes afterwards! From now on, she would make every effort to be more understanding. She would swallow her loneliness and live for when he was back home again—like everyone else who was seeing an Auror must be doing.

Now he had asked her to go with him to another one of his political affairs. Dreadfully dull as usual but, she supposed, also relevant to her own interests. She'd much rather have done something privately with him, but if it were this or nothing, she’d choose this.

She took great care in dressing and resolved to be the perfect girlfriend tonight. Perfect, but natural, of course. She wore the perfect dress—conservative, but with the right amount of sexy; the perfect hair—curly, but not unruly; the perfect make-up—enhancing, but subtle; and the perfect shoes—with a heel, but nothing that would sprain her ankle.

She felt really good about tonight.

Harry's reaction when he saw her was very rewarding. He kissed her and muttered something about her efforts being completely wasted where they were going, since everyone would be old and stodgy, not to mention half-blind.

He escorted her to the party—some stately old country-side manor—and made certain she was introduced to the hosts and had a drink in her hand. The consummate gentleman.

"Ugh," he said about half an hour in. "I do wish we could simply leave."

"Why can't we?" she asked. After all, they'd done it once before.

"We need funding to set up a new training programme, and it's easier to get money if the donators feel like I'm approachable."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "It seems dodgy that _your_ department accepts private funding. What with your focus on Dark Wizards and everything."

"Yeah, I know. Ginny said the same thing. But it's only a training programme."

Hermione blinked. _Ginny?_ "Has this been in the works for a long time, then?"

"No, only a few weeks, actually."

"Oh. So, when did you have time to talk to Ginny about it? I mean, you've been gone a lot..."

"I saw her a couple of weeks ago. That weekend where I unfortunately had to cancel my plans with you the next day."

Hermione's spine went rigid in spite of her brain trying to tell it to _relax_. He could only have meant the Saturday where he'd had plans he hadn't felt right changing. So after he'd been gone so long, he'd put seeing his ex before seeing his current girlfriend?

A tiny voice tried to tell her that he didn't see Ginny as an ex but rather as a very good friend, but it didn't help very much. She'd thought that it had been something else keeping him away. Something more important or at least someone he had less history with. Why couldn't he have seen _her_ on Saturday and _Ginny_ on Sunday?

She would have to examine this later. Right now she had to stop herself from being impulsive and overreacting in front of all of these very important people, so she smiled and chatted whilst her insides were rebelling.

And then the inevitable happened. Hermione looked on with a mix of exasperation and resignation as yet another message was delivered to Harry. Now was her time to shine, she supposed. She prepared to give him her blessing, hoping—against all odds, she knew—that he'd at least consider staying with her before she gave it.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," he said, sounding more preoccupied than sorry as he scanned the parchment again.

"That's all—"

"This shouldn't take long. I might even be back tonight. I'm sorry to leave you like this." He reached over and kissed her forehead, and then he was gone.

She was left feeling bewildered and disappointed that what she'd had to say didn't even matter to him. Stunned and hurt and— _smile_. The hosts were approaching her to inquire about Harry's sudden departure. She managed to explain it to them with lots of smiles and emphasis on the importance of Harry's job, and then after they'd excused themselves, she casually made her way to a door at the back of the room, leading to a hallway she hoped would be more deserted than the one at the front.

Once she had secured relative privacy, she pressed her hand against her midriff, trying to tackle the impossible task of keeping it together by applying pressure. It was like using a plaster and expecting a tourniquet.

A hand lightly touched her arm, and she jumped before groaning. "Malfoy! Why is it always _you_?"

"Beats me," he tightly said. "Congratulations, you did better this time. But you can't... do that here." He made a vague motion towards her face.

"Do what?"

"Weep. They have staff using these halls. And houseguests."

"I'm not—" Before she could finish the sentence, tears rose in her eyes. She pressed a hand against her mouth, again vainly hoping to hold it in.

Malfoy groaned. "Come on, Granger. Work with me. I said you _can't_ do that here!"

"It's stupid, isn't it?" she managed to choke out.

"Yes, it is," he agreed, before wincing as she began full-on sobbing. "I mean, of course not. There, there. Would you stop it?" He quickly glanced back at the door they'd both come from. "You can't be here; it's only a matter of time. Come on." He began leading her off.

She tried her best to get control of herself. "Are you helping me?"

"Shut up, Granger."

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"But it's an honest question!"

"Yet I don't have an honest reply. Or a dishonest one, for that matter." He led her into what could only be a private bedroom, checking the hallway in both directions before he followed her and closed the door with a relieved sigh.

"We can't be here," she said.

"Certainly we can," he contradicted her, leaning on the door.

"No, look! Someone's using it." She pointed to a book on the bedside table. "What if they return early?"

"They won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'm already here."

"Y—oh." She frowned, looking around. He was a guest here? This was his bed? That made her a bit uncomfortable.

"Relax, Granger. I actually don't have an agenda other than getting you away from prying eyes. You're free to leave if you want." He moved away from the door to sit down on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him, and smirked at her. "I never mastered the art of getting it up for blubbering witches anyway."

She relaxed a bit. "Right." Her gaze fell on a dressing table with a matching stool, and she sat down. "I'd forgotten how you felt about having sex with me."

His jaw tightened and he looked remarkably angry for a moment, but then he locked his hands behind his head and looked up. "Are you going to be like this every time the two of you go out? Because, honestly, I find it rather taxing."

She shrugged, feeling dangerously close to tears again. "I'm not sure we're going to continue going out."

He exhaled so exaggeratedly that he must have meant her to pick up on his annoyance and said, "Of course you are."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing. Except that all he has to do is send you cheap vegetation and then you're completely insufferable for days. I'm always afraid to go to your office now, since I never know what state I'll find you in."

"And finding me happy is so very dreadful."

He pursed his lips. "Exactly."

"Yet you continue to save me. Why is that?"

"I wouldn't call it _saving_ you as much as making certain that my second-hand embarrassment doesn't go into overdrive."

"You really are a prat, do you know that?"

He shrugged. "I know that you think so, yes."

She snorted and looked away, nervously picking at her dress to keep her hands occupied. "So, what are you doing here? I mean, why are you living with them?"

Malfoy shrugged, studying the ceiling again. "Oh, nothing important. Simply considering marrying their daughter, that sort of thing."

That took Hermione completely by surprise. For a moment, she lost her breath and forgot all her own worries. " _What?_ "

Her shrill voice made him wince. "She doesn't exactly know it yet, though, so it would be much appreciated if you didn't tell anyone."

" _What?_ " she said, even louder than before.

"Ah! Enough with the shrieking! Gads. You'd think you wouldn't be so surprised that I'm doing something a little less than noble. It's not even a lot less than noble. She has a say, you know. They aren't _selling_ her to me."

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it of Harry long enough to focus on this conversation. "How can she not even _know_ it?"

"Because I haven't made up my mind yet, that's why. We decided that sparing her feelings in case I decided against the match would be best. See? We aren't complete arses."

"The Wizengamot is still debating that one. So why are you even marrying her?" Her mind was still reeling from the thought of Draco Malfoy getting married. She honestly hadn't seen that one coming and had a hard time grasping it.

" _Maybe_ marrying her. Because it would make a good match. Her father would like my money and name, and I would like his political influence."

"Sounds like you should be marrying him instead," she absent-mindedly muttered, still trying to comprehend what this would mean. Would he even know how to be faithful? Would she catch him arguing with more witches and face the moral dilemma of whether to tell his wife or stay out of it?

Would she face the moral dilemma of him trying to _make_ her one of those witches? Or, worse, of wanting to be one of them?

What was she even thinking? This was stupid. Of course she wouldn't want to be one of his witches. She'd already _made_ that mistake.

He gritted his teeth and glared at her with yet another sudden onset of anger that she didn't understand. "And what about you, then? You're seeing someone who can't even tear himself away from work long enough to finish one simple meal with you, after you haven't seen each other in _weeks_. Is that supposed to be a superior kind of relationship?"

"He's an important man!"

"No, he's not. He's an overgrown child running after adventures and letting the witch he's wanted for so long slip through his fingers because he's taking her for granted and she's lonely."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears again and she had to press the knuckles of her hand against her mouth to stop sound from erupting.

"Oh for f—" she heard him swear. "Granger, I didn't mean that. You know I never mean what I say. Snap out of it."

She shook her head without removing her hand. "You _always_ mean what you say," she whispered into it. "And you're right. I thought becoming his girlfriend would be an upgrade, but instead it's only felt like a big downgrade." The tears began flowing more freely.

She heard the rustle of him moving off the bed to begin an agitated pacing. "No, I lie. A lot. About everything. Don't trust anything I say. I like to make people miserable. Especially you. Especially Potter. You _and_ Potter are a mix that positively attracts my lies!"

She slowly removed her hand, sniffing a little confusedly. "Why would you tell me that?"

He gave her an aggravated sneer. "Because I seem to tell you absolutely anything that pops into my head whether it makes sense or not whenever you do _that_ , so please stop it!"

"Stop doing what?"

"Crying. It makes me awkward. I hate crying witches."

"But I'm sad." She sounded pathetic, but for once she didn't care. Right now she felt like her entire world was crumbling.

He made an aggravated sound. "I don't really care. Potter's too stupid to be worth it anyway."

"No, he's not!" she immediately objected.

"He leaves you stranded just about every time the two of you go out."

"He can't help it that his current cases demand a lot of him!" she said, quick to defend.

"So he can't even finish a meal?"

" _Lives_ depend on him, so of course he can't!" She indignantly wiped at her tears with her hands.

"And you don't mind being left behind?" he asked, sounding more than a little incredulous.

"We can always go out some other time." Yes, why hadn't she thought about that before? Tomorrow was another day. He didn't run off _every_ time they were together, after all. Only most of the time.

And then he was away for hours and days and weeks.

Malfoy slowly stalked closer. "Is that so?"

Something about the way he was looking ready to commit murder, his fists clenching and unclenching as he looked at her, made Hermione get to her feet in as dignified a manner as humanly possible whilst attempting to edge away.

Her heart was pounding, but she wasn't _scared_ , exactly. She chose not to trust whatever was going through her system but instead do the sensible thing—try to diffuse the situation and escape.

"Of course," she said, her voice only shaking a little. "I don't know why I always act like it's the end of the world that he has to leave. He will soon be back and—"

"You know, it really doesn't say much about you, Granger."

"What doesn't?"

"That you're willing to stay with someone who doesn't give enough of a damn to try and make time for you. Someone who constantly hurts you and makes you cry—in very public places at that." 

He was closing in on her, and she had reached the wall and was now torn between staying put and moving towards the door, towards _him_ , in order to attempt to slip out.

"I think you're being grossly unfair now!" she said.

Harry didn't even know he was making her unhappy, after all, but Hermione felt that she probably shouldn't point that out. Draco would only claim Harry should have noticed, but how could Harry notice when she deliberately tried to hide it from him?

"Am I?" he silkily asked. "No, if I were to be gross anything, I'd say that if that's all you're looking for in a bloke, maybe I should make myself available to you. At least that way I'd get to fuck you. You _are_ a great fuck, as I can't seem to stop vividly recalling, and that's probably why your Harry doesn't want to let you go."

She stared at him and then she began laughing, the sound forced and tinged with hysteria. "That's a good one, Malfoy. Now tell me another one."

"You're so fucking stupid, Granger, you know that?" he asked, closing the distance until he had her trapped against the wall, and then he placed an arm on either side of her. "You honestly think I'm lying _now_ as opposed to when I was angry with you for making me feel bad about doing something I had _every right_ to do in the first place?"

She attempted to shrink back against the wall, but she was already completely pressed against it and it wasn't about to give simply because she wished it would. Malfoy was looming over her, tall and angry, the heat coming off his body in waves, making her react in ways she very much shouldn't. "I can't do this, Malfoy," she said, lowering her eyes to avoid temptation.

He growled and hit the wall with the palm of his hand just above her left ear. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I know you'll always wait around for that ponce to realise what he's got and would jump at the chance to warm his bed, even though he doesn't even remotely deserve it?"

"Jealous words coming from someone who just told me he intends to get married!" she shot back.

"Jealous," he echoed. "You're probably right. I can't fucking stand that it really only took _once_ to get me out of your system when I've been burning ever since!"

Her eyes widened at the admission and her heart sped up to impossible levels, but she valiantly tried to squash her reaction. "You were the one who said it would only take once in the first place!"

"Obviously, I _hoped_ I was telling the truth. I couldn't have known how little satisfaction could be found in just that one time. I need more." He lowered his head until his breath was caressing her cheek. "How do I get you out of my system, Granger?"

She finally looked up at him. "Are you being honest or opportunistic?"

He smiled without much humour and asked, "How about opportunistically honest?" 

Then he kissed her, his mouth deftly covering hers in a searing caress. 

It was exactly what she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
>  
> 
> He made a sarcastic sound. "Jealous, Granger?"
> 
> "Yes." She didn't allow her gaze to waver even as he stared at her, his expression shocked. Maybe he should have been the one careful to ask questions. She was certainly careful not to think too hard about her own reply.
> 
> "You have no right to be," he then said.
> 
> "Nobody ever said I did." She couldn't help it, though. She didn't like the thought of him sleeping with anyone else. Why that was, she preferred not to examine, but since he'd done her the courtesy of being honest, she might as well do the same.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione pushed away all the thoughts trying to tell her that this was a bad idea—she didn't want to examine why she shouldn't be doing this—and grabbed onto Draco with all her might, answering the quickly spiralling out of control kiss with every bit of passion she'd tried to suppress for so long.

He groaned and began to hoist her up, but a brief flash of what her back had felt after last time made her stop him. "Wait," she breathlessly said.

He hissed but very reluctantly let go of her leg again. "That how it's going to be, Granger?" he asked in a strangled voice. "You only letting me have the tiniest taste to make sure I keep burning?"

She swallowed. This was where it _should_ end. Yet she didn't want it to. "Why maul me against the wall, when you can maul me on your bed?"

For the longest moment, he simply stared at her as if unable to comprehend the words she'd just uttered, and then he grabbed her and all but dragged her over towards the bed.

"Wait!" she said again as he was smoothly unzipping her dress.

He growled in warning.

She ignored it and used both hands to make certain the dress was still covering her breasts as he nudged the straps off her shoulders. "Did you... You didn't..." She winced. There was no good way to ask this, but she had to know. "Did you sleep with someone else very recently?"

He jerked back, obviously more than a little surprised at her question. "Careful asking questions, Granger. You might get an answer."

That didn't bode too well. "I know. I _want_ an answer."

He looked her straight in the eyes for the longest time as if to gauge her motives. "And how do you expect me to be honest when there's only one answer you want?" he asked.

She lightly shook her head. "Be honest. It won't change anything. I just don't... I don't want to be taken by surprise this time."

After a few moments of her most imploring look, he relented. "No, not recently." He bent down to kiss her again but she dodged him.

"When was the last time, then?" she persisted.

He made a sarcastic sound. "Jealous, Granger?"

"Yes." She didn't allow her gaze to waver even as he stared at her, his expression shocked. Maybe he should have been the one careful to ask questions. She was certainly careful not to think too hard about her own reply.

"You have no right to be," he then said.

"Nobody ever said I did." She couldn't help it, though. She didn't like the thought of him sleeping with anyone else. Why that was, she preferred not to examine, but since he'd done her the courtesy of being honest, she might as well do the same.

He seemed to consider it for another moment, but then he visibly gave up and sighed. "I refuse to get further into this, but you were the last person I slept with, all right? You."

"But—"

"I said I refuse, Granger," he reminded her, and then he kissed her again, not taking no for an answer this time.

She didn't plan to say no. His lips were firm and demanding, everything she wanted in a pair of lips tonight. Everything she needed to be swept away from this horrible, hollow feeling inside her that was waiting to consume her the second she was left alone.

And he hadn't been with anyone else. She had her doubts about the truth of it, but she made an effort to push those away. He really didn't owe her anything, and she'd be better off treating this as a fantasy rather than reality. That was all he could be trusted to provide her with.

She felt her dress drop, and then she was backed up until she lost her balance and fell heavily onto the bed, where she issued another wordless invitation by leisurely crawling back to make room for him without even once breaking eye contact. Malfoy only hesitated long enough to pull his robes off over his head and step out of his trousers, and then he followed on top of her, kissing and caressing as if to make certain she wouldn't change her mind.

He was leaning on his right forearm, allowing his left hand to roam as he kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts. She couldn't help a low moan, and his hand slid down to her hip and pushed her up against him, where she could feel the hard ridge through the two thin layers of cloth still separating them.

She ached to feel it inside her. "Please," she whispered.

He nodded. "But my way."

This answer momentarily confused her, but she was distracted when he sat back on his knees and slowly removed her knickers, his eyes devouring every bit of flesh revealed to him. Then he quickly relieved himself of his own last piece of clothing, grabbed her hips and without further ado flipped her onto her stomach. 

She gasped from the surprise of it, but before she could do anything more than get to her hands and knees, he was covering her, making movement impossible as he entwined his fingers with hers, and whispering in her ear, "This is what I've been fantasising about for weeks. You beneath me, powerless to do anything but accept being fucked like an animal."

When put like that, she found it hard to squash a rush of excitement. She could feel the warmth of him behind her. His knees on either side of hers, locking her legs in place. His chest against her back. His hot breath on her ear. His strong arms along hers, the grip on her hands unyielding. But the most enthralling thing was the way his erection pressed against her. With a mere flexing of his hips, it applied pressure to all the right places and she found herself whimpering, wishing for more.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, flexing his hips again. She couldn't do anything but bite her lip and nod, and he groaned at the assent. "This will be good," he whispered. "You're so fucking wet for me. Wetter than I ever even hoped to imagine all those nights tossing off..."

Another rush of wet heat went through her, but she didn't trust her own voice. Instead she merely pushed against him, hoping he’d take a hint.

He did. He disentangled one hand to trail his fingers down her backside until he found the source of the wetness, and then he pressed a couple of fingers inside her under the guise of checking if she was ready. She was more than ready and he knew it, but she still couldn't hold back the moan she knew he was looking for. She wanted him so badly. She couldn't take it any longer.

She tried to squirm against him but was punished by a removal of the fingers and a light slap on her bum. "Easy, Granger. Patience."

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one being teased mercilessly.

Fortunately, he decided not to tease her any further but instead slowly, carefully, began pressing into her. She attempted to speed up the process, but all that resulted in was him grabbing her hip and stopping for several seconds. Only when he was certain that she would behave, did he continue.

It was maddening.

Once he was completely buried inside her, he resumed his earlier position, keeping both her hands in place, and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "So wet," he muttered. "So tight."

So impatient! She turned her head as best she could and rubbed her cheek against his hair. She wasn't completely certain it would achieve anything, but she'd already learned that squirming was pointless. He lifted his head and lightly kissed her lips before finally beginning to move.

It was a completely new experience to Hermione. She could hardly even define why. It was in the way he was all around her. The way that when he moved against her, he rubbed her in spots she couldn't recall having been rubbed any other time she'd been in a similar position. Not that she had a very easy time remembering ever having sex with anyone else right at that moment. It was also in the way that he'd entwined their fingers, and how she wanted to squeeze his hands with her rising need. And it was especially in the way that he breathed muffled sounds that sounded very much like her name into her ear.

Then it was in the way that each controlled movement became faster, harder, _longer_ , and left her with such an intense reaction that she could hardly bear it. The way she began to almost desperately squirm to ease the intensity, if only a little bit, and he wouldn't let her. The way he mercilessly kept her arms and legs in place with his own body whilst slamming into her again and again and again, each time giving her a more powerful jolt than the time before, until she finally couldn't contain any more of it and she cried out her orgasm.

Only then did he let go of one of her hands and, shushing her, used his own newly freed hand to cover her mouth. She couldn't help it—she bit his middle finger. He hissed with surprise, but only shoved the hand more firmly against her mouth, before he made her sit up with him. He pressed his other hand, still joined with hers, against her midriff and took her even faster this way. She bit down harder on his finger, and he retaliated by bending his head and far too efficiently seeking out the spot on her neck that she'd held his lips against last time. He sucked hard, sending her headfirst into another orgasm that darkened her vision for just a moment. Only the fact that he was still completely in control of her position kept her upright.

"Talk to me," he grunted once she'd somewhat regained her equilibrium.

She made a sound to remind him of the impossibility of speech, and he removed his hand from her mouth, showing deep red indents on his fingers.

He didn't seem to care about those, though. Instead, he grabbed her other hand again and held it against her thigh as he moved against her. "Who's fucking you tonight, Granger?"

She was still on the very edge of coming, afraid to give in and be drained of everything that was left in her, but he was relentlessly—if somewhat more softly—making her keep up a most delicious rhythm, not to mention that the hands on her thigh had brushed up so high that even the vaguest movement stimulated her overly sensitive flesh.

"Say it," he demanded.

"You are, D-Draco..." she gasped.

He groaned. "Do you like it?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"Then ask for it."

"Please..." She could hear him grunt his appreciation in her ear. How come he still had his wits about him? She wanted to remedy that like she wanted nothing else, so she whispered, "Fuck me, Draco. Harder. Like an animal."

His stunned groan and the way he sped up his movements, told her everything she needed to know about the words' effects on him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steel herself against him but failing. "Harder. I'm coming again," she said with a groan.

With a strangled sound, he moved their hands on her midriff up to caress her breast, whilst the hands on her thigh moved up to cup her sex. The rhythm he was controlling became wilder, more intense, and she couldn't help but give in to yet another climax, this time with his name on her lips.

He followed with an unintelligible shout that seemed almost ripped from his throat.

She felt immensely gratified that she could make him noisy when he'd clearly been so set on keeping her quiet. Too bad her bones were made of jelly or she would've gloated.

He slowly released her and, unable to hold herself up, she slid down on the bed, completely drained. He almost collapsed on top of her, but put out a hand at the last moment, muttering, "Fuck."

She couldn't have agreed more, but she wasn't currently capable of speaking. Instead she merely lay there, looking up at him. He seemed to be fighting hard to get his breathing back under control and was staring wildly at her.

The silence stretched as they were both unwilling and unable to either move or put words together, but slowly Hermione's brain began to function again.

She really wished it wouldn't because with it came realisation of what she'd done— _again_ —accompanied by inevitable self-loathing.

"Here we go," was all Draco said, as she scrambled to cover herself up with her hands for the few seconds it took her to locate her clothes.

"Not a word," she hissed, diving after the clothing and putting it on with shaking hands.

"You knew what you were doing," he said, ignoring her request. "You could've said no. I didn't force you in any way."

"No, you simply took advantage of an extremely vulnerable moment!"

His lips tightened, and he too got up and began dressing. "I suppose I didn't think it would matter," he said. He wasn't looking at her.

"You didn't think it would matter? _You didn't think_...?" She was close to tears and her voice was rising. "Harry will never forgive me this! Ever! Everything we had is just—" _Gone._ The word stuck in her throat.

Draco's jaw clenched. "You were already saying it was over! How exactly did you have anything to lose?"

"But I didn't _mean_ it!" she almost shouted.

"And how was I supposed to know that?" he yelled straight back at her.

"How about using your _brain_ a little?"

"You know what?" He grabbed the book from the bedside table right next to him and hurled it into the wall with such great force that it sounded almost like a gunshot on impact, and a few pages came loose. "I'm _sick_ of being caught between the two of you!"

Hermione stared in horror at the violence and needless destruction, but then anger took over again. "Then stop wedging yourself in between us!"

"Wedging? _Wedging_? I was trying to help you, you bitch! Trying to comfort you! You really think I planned this?!"

"What do _you_ care about my relationship with Harry? What do you care about _me_? All you were looking for was an easy lay!"

He didn't reply. Instead he sneered at her and then went to pick up the book, cursing under his breath at the damage before attempting a repairing spell.

She stared at him in confusion for a little bit, then asked, "You care?"

He shrugged and returned the book to its rightful place. "Not really. Shouldn't you be going?"

She swallowed. Obviously he wanted her gone, but she simply had to get a more satisfying answer. "Draco?"

That seemed to be the last straw for him because his barely contained anger surfaced again. "Stop asking fucking questions about things you only want one answer to," he gritted out. "What's done is done. I can't change what happened. And guess what? I wouldn't even if I could. Your relationship issues are _not_ my problem!"

"Are you in love with me?" she quietly asked. It was a dangerous question indeed, but not asking it wouldn't serve any purpose other than creating some kind of alluring taboo surrounding whatever feelings might lay hidden between them. Just look where it had got her the first time. Not to mention now. Maybe drawing things out a bit more in the open would help prevent her from making the same mistakes over and over again.

For a moment, it didn't seem like he'd reply, but then he said, "I honestly don't know."

What kind of reply was that? "How can you not know?"

"Because, Granger," he said, his voice rising again in anger and frustration, "I can't stop wanting to fuck you long enough to see if that's all I want!"

Hermione was completely thrown. "But you just did _fuck_ me." There really wasn't a better term for what they'd done. It hadn't been tender. It hadn't been emotional. It had been _sex_. "So shouldn't you be able to tell now?"

He snorted. "We fucked once, Hermione. It was barely enough to take the edge off. Give me another three orgasms tonight and then we'll talk."

She couldn't help the disbelieving sound leaving her lips. "You couldn't."

He only raised an eyebrow as if challenging her.

In spite of everything, she felt a jolt of renewed lust go through her at both his words and the way he looked at her, all heat and sinful promises once more.

He was dangerous. It would be so easy to let herself be consumed with this lust and allow him to do indecent things to her until he tired of it, but what would be the cost?

She broke eye contact, rejecting the challenge.

He sighed. "You're going to seek _him_ out now, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded. 

"Right. Of course. Well, I suppose I'll be going home now. There's no reason for me to stay here; you saw to that."

And then that was that. For now, they had nothing more to say to each other, so she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
>  
> 
> "Just because you make a poor decision _once_..." Draco began.
> 
> "It wasn't just once."
> 
> "Then twice! It hardly—"
> 
> She forced herself to admit it. "Not just twice."
> 
> That threw him. "What?"


	7. Chapter 7

Going to Harry's flat was a harsh dose of reality for Hermione. He wasn't home yet, and she had to wait outside on the cold stone steps—somehow the topic of a key had never come up, and now she was oddly glad that they weren't at _that_ level—and it gave her a lot of time to examine the mundane surroundings as well as her own awful behaviour.

What kind of person cheated on her boyfriend, simply because he had to go away for a bit?

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she buried her face in her hands. Harry had forgiven her once, but he wouldn't again. She didn't even want him to. Not only was this time different and far worse, but she was now truly, officially, a repeat offender.

He would despise her, as well he should. She despised herself. But she couldn't pretend that nothing had happened, she simply couldn't. She could never do that to Harry of all people. True, she hadn't thought she'd ever cheat on him to begin with, but now that she had... she had to tell him and accept the consequences.

This was how Harry found her hours later.

"What...?" He already looked exhausted but one glance at her tear-streaked face made him look like he hadn't slept for a week. "I see."

The very fact that she didn't even have to tell him really said it all, didn't it?

She was hugging herself, unable to speak. Speaking would turn this awful nightmare into something real.

"I wish it could've been different," he quietly said. "But you just didn't love me enough, did you?"

She shook her head. She _did_ love him. "Harry, I..."

"No." He held up his hand. "I don't want to hear what happened. I don't want to hear your explanations. I don't want to _know_ , Hermione, because I don't want to hate you, and... I just really need you to not say anything."

So she kept quiet, her lips trembling with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. For Harry to be close to hating her... it was something she'd never thought possible before. But she understood him. All their history, everything that existed between them, she'd turned from something pure and beautiful into something ugly, something tainted.

"I rejected a case today," he tonelessly said. "One that would take me away for a month, maybe longer. I think changing my mind makes sense at this point, don't you?"

 _I’ve lost him._ "You were my best friend." The words were pathetic, but true nevertheless. She had lost more than a boyfriend tonight. No, not lost. _Thrown away_.

She had thrown away everything that was good in her life and, truthfully, she no longer believed she deserved anything else to fill that void. She deserved to live out her life as a bitter, lonely woman because she'd taken happiness and done _this_ to it, and that was completely unforgivable.

Harry sighed and sat down next to her without touching her. "You're making it rather hard to be angry with you, you know that?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm _very_ angry with me." Not just angry. Furious. Feeling all the hate that she didn't want Harry to feel, because if Harry felt it too... that would be the end of her.

"Exactly." He awkwardly patted her shoulder without getting too close. "Don't cry. Obviously we simply weren't... weren't right for each other."

She could tell it took some effort for him to say those words, and it did absolutely nothing to help her guilt and self-loathing. "What if we were, and I ruined it all for nothing?"

He shook his head and swallowed. "No... I can't make myself believe that would even be possible. I can't say I understand, because _I don't_ , but I'm sure if I knew the whole story... I know how loyal you usually are."

"Not that loyal, really." She didn't even try to hide her bitterness.

He shot her a quick glance. "You're not just talking about me now, are you? You mean what happened with Ron. I always thought he was quick to judge you."

"But now you don't?"

He hesitated, and that hesitation hurt more than any angry accusations ever could have. "I have to be honest with you, Hermione," he finally said. "It's difficult for me to accept that we're ending this way. I'm not sure I'll ever be completely able to, and where does that leave us?"

That did it. That opened her up for the torrent of tears that had just barely been dammed. She hardly even registered that he got up, patted her on the shoulder again and whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't what you needed," and then she was alone. Completely alone, crying her heart out on the cold stone steps outside what she feared was a soon-to-be stranger's locked home.

* * *

When Draco Malfoy groggily opened his front door at dawn, after it had been subject to several minutes of very loud, obnoxious pounding, it was a fair bet that he hadn't expected the sight that awaited him. A wild, red-eyed Hermione in rumpled evening clothes, with a burning need to lay some blame on him.

"You!" she hissed, pushing him backwards with both hands and entering unbidden, slamming the door behind her with her foot. "It's all _your_ doing!"

"I thought we already did that song and dance, Granger," he replied in a voice still thick with sleep.

"If it hadn't been for you, I would _never_ have done something like that to Harry! Why couldn't you simply leave me alone?" To her own great annoyance, her lower lip began trembling again. She was so sick of crying and didn't want to do it in front of Draco, so she fought it down with all she had.

He took a moment to look at her and then sighed. "I take it he wasn't so forgiving this time."

"Of course not! Would you be?"

He crossed his arms over his chest in a very defensive stance. "I keep forgiving you for being with him, don't I?"

Ugh, was he really going to play that game tonight? She was far too unhappy and tired for that. And all the emotions had given her a headache hours ago, and it simply kept growing. "That's not the same thing! You and I are _not_ together!"

"And yet you feel comfortable enough to come to my home in the middle of the night to make a scene," he pointed out.

"Because it's your fault!"

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then he closed it again and, after a moment of studying her, simply said, "All right."

"All right, what?" She was suspicious, as she always was when Draco Malfoy gave in too easily.

"All right. It's my fault."

She stared at him. "What?"

"I did everything I could to get you to sleep with me, and it worked. If I hadn't, you'd probably still have been at least occasionally happy with Potter."

At first, there was nothing but incomprehension in her tired and emotionally drained brain, but then his words registered and there was horror. Because _he was wrong_ and she couldn't blame him for any of this. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth and took a step backwards. Draco wasn't liable for her actions. Staying faithful to Harry had been her own responsibility. Her _only_ responsibility. Her eyes filled with tears again, and she took another step back, making her back hit the door. Having nowhere else to go, she slid down to a sitting position, trying very hard and failing to hold back yet another sob.

Initially Draco only stared at her in confusion, but then he knelt before her, carefully touching her shoulder. Almost like Harry had done. It only made her sob harder. "Wait!" he said, bewildered. "I said it was my fault. You can blame me. I mapped it all out. Planned the whole thing. You know I hate him and, argh, stop it! I kick puppies, I swear."

She shook her head and drew her legs up to her chest. "But it isn't your fault, is it? It's all me!" She buried her head in her arms.

"Hermione... fuck, look, I don't mind you blaming me. I really don't. Please stop crying. Hit me instead or something. Smash the place up. I need to redecorate anyway. Although, on second thoughts, could you please postpone the smashing up until a decent hour? Neighbours and all that."

She finally raised her head, a thought belatedly occurring to her through the miserable fog around her brain. "You're not alone, are you? And I'm... making a scene. Oh, God." She made to get up.

He stopped her with a firm hand, keeping her in place. "I am alone. I just hate to see you cry so much over such a tosser."

"Harry is not a tosser."

"He's the worst tosser I ever met. He had _you_ pining and waiting for him and virtually ignored you at every turn. It drives me mental that you'd rather be in his bed than mine. For once, I actually think I'd have been the better choice. I wouldn't ignore such a pretty witch itching to bed me. Certainly not for that long."

She thought he was probably only trying to cheer her up, but she still felt like she needed to defend Harry. "He didn't ignore me. He had to go away, because it's _his job_. Being an Auror is a lot of responsibility."

"We already had this conversation and we're never going to agree, I know, but let me just point out to you again that you weren't actually happy with him. It doesn't matter if he _had_ to go. You were always unhappy with him going and... that's that."

"You make it sound like it was a bigger issue than it was!" She was unable to acknowledge that maybe Draco had a point. It was sheer self-preservation. Because if he had a point, then her conviction that she should have been selfless enough to end the relationship on a more amiable note strengthened to unbearable levels.

"If you were so happy, then why did you sleep with me?" Draco ruthlessly pointed out.

She looked away. "Because I'm a horrible human being." At least that held true either way.

He groaned and moved to sit down next to her. "All right. Join the club, then. I win, though."

Wasn't he supposed to assure her that she wasn't horrible? "Excuse me?"

"I win. I get to be the president _and_ treasurer of our little club." He wasn't looking at her, but rather at a painting somewhere in front of him, and he was wearing a kind of smirk that suggested he was disgusted by his own achievement.

"Really. You’ve done anything in recent memory that is worse than cheating on your best friend of almost two decades?" she dubiously asked.

"Yes. Several things, actually."

"Then by all means, let's hear it!" Because he seemed to want to tell her, and she could do with someone other than herself being awful for a change.

"Remember how I was negotiating marriage?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"She didn't know."

"Oh." She was disappointed at the lack of novelty. "You already told me that."

He shook his head and finally looked at her. "No. I mean... she wouldn't have been told. Her parents preferred it that way."

"Come again?"

"I tried to paint a prettier picture of it by leaving a few things out when I told you earlier, but the truth is that I was going to pretend I fell in love with her. And make her buy it. Her parents would have helped me woo her. I had every intention of being good to her, but I was going to base it all on a lie. Start out our relationship by treating her like an ignorant child to be led by the hand, rather than a grown woman who could make her own decisions."

"Oh. Ew. That _is_ disgusting!"

"So I win, right?"

"I'm not sure..."

"All right, then. Remember that witch you saw me with a while ago?"

"How could I forget?"

"I learned that she wasn't trying to set me up. She was getting back together with her ex-boyfriend and was legitimately terrified that she might be pregnant and he'd finish with her again."

"That poor woman."

"So do I win now, or do I need to give more examples?"

"No please stop. I get it; you're awful. I'm having a hard time seeing how this competition is supposed to work, though. "

He sighed. "You could never be truly horrible. It's not in you. You were confused, but at least you were honest with yourself about how you felt. And you told him the truth about what had happened. Me... I would probably have lied and kept lying. Because I'm selfish and I don't really like conflicts."

" _You_ don't like conflicts?" She couldn't help the inelegant snort that accompanied the question.

"Shut up, Granger. Not when I have something to lose, I don't. If it came to a choice of confessing something awful I did and maybe losing someone I love, or keeping it to myself with no repercussions unless found out... I know what I would choose every time."

"Yes, well, when you have something to lose, you shouldn't do horrible things in the first place. I know _I_ shouldn't have."

"Just because you make a poor decision _once_..." Draco began.

"It wasn't just once."

"Then twice! It hardly—"

She forced herself to admit it. "Not just twice."

That threw him. "What?"

She couldn't help the bitter smile. "My relationship with Ron ended with a kiss, so to speak. I suppose Harry should've known better than to get involved with me."

"You kissed someone else?" It was clear he hadn't expected that.

She shrugged. It didn't really matter at this point what Draco thought of her, so she only gave the briefest explanation. "Well, the way I remember it, he kissed _me_. But Ron said I responded very enthusiastically."

Draco frowned, processing that. "How could he tell you how you responded to someone else's kiss?"

"I-I actually don't remember what happened that well," she admitted. "There were so many arguments about it, and in the end, I just... He could've been right, I suppose. He probably was. I was a bit tipsy at the time, you see. I suppose I could've done any number of things and not be able to reliably remember it later."

He actually looked aghast. "And that's your evidence that you're horrible? The evidence that you're presenting to convince _me_ of all people?"

She shrugged. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

Draco groaned and rubbed his temple as if he was getting his very own headache. "Remember when I called you stupid earlier?"

"Yes?"

"I really, really meant it. Look, even forgetting all about your incident with Weasley and focusing on _now_ , you were so incredibly lonely, and I took advantage of that. And everything considered... I'm still not sorry."

She blinked a few times, clearing her vision from the seemingly perpetual fog to shoot him a dubious look.

His lips quirked into a small, self-deprecating smile at her reaction. "I suppose that has to mean I'm not in love with you, doesn't it? It's too selfish. You're obviously unhappy, but I'm not sorry about what happened and my part in it. I'm even glad you're not going out with Potter any longer, even though you're a lot more miserable now than you were with him."

"That _is_ rather self-centred," she slowly agreed, uncertain about why he was bringing that up all of a sudden.

"Right! And love is the opposite of that, so... there's the answer to your question. I really don't think I can be in love with you. I mean, that’s not how it works, is it?"

She would have been lying if she’d said that didn't hurt. On top of everything else that had happened here today, he simply _had_ to go and tell her that he wasn't in love with her? When maybe, just _maybe_ , she'd hoped he was?

Apparently she wanted to have her cake and eat it too. At least she couldn't become more disgusted with herself, so there was that small consolation.

"No offence, Draco," she carefully said, trying hard not to betray her new feelings of hurt and disappointment. "I know I did ask earlier, but maybe that wasn't what I needed to hear at this time. You know, being in a generally unloved state and everything."

He seemed to easily shrug that off. "Potter still loves you."

"I don't believe so."

"Just because you're no longer involved in a romantic relationship doesn't mean he doesn't care about you. I hear that humans are more complicated than that."

"You have no idea how I hurt him."

Draco made a derisive sound. "Give him some space and he'll come back around. The two of you are sickening like that."

"Thank you," she said in a very small voice. She wasn't certain she believed him, but it was the best thing she'd heard all night, and it gave her some semblance of hope that maybe she hadn't lost _everything_.

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He certainly did find his own hall interesting. "I'd say it was my pleasure, but the truth is that I don't enjoy this conversation very much."

She smiled. "And I can always count on you for the truth, at least."

"No, I keep telling you that you can't!"

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin. I'll say whatever I need to in order to get what I want, and I'll say whatever I have to in order to cover up things I don't want you to know. I told you. Lies are often more convenient."

"But you're so very matter-of-fact about... about you and me."

He shrugged, looking tired. "Now, yeah, because I stopped giving a fuck either way a while ago. Since I can't make it stop even though there's nothing to gain for me, I have no reason to lie to you. You don't know what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"Minding your own business, living your own life, and then having someone walk into the room and... everything just warps. Every single fucking time."

She tried very hard to work out his meaning before she said, "I'm not sure I understand."

He made an annoyed sound. "Take last night. I was talking to my potential future in-laws, making progress with my plans, and then you arrived. Instantly, I couldn't have a conversation to save my life. I was only acutely aware of how you looked, who you were with, what you were doing. How much I wanted to drag you off and shag you for the rest of the night. I couldn't tell what you were talking about, but it was so fucking obvious that he said something to upset you even before he got that message and left. And then you put on that front, thin enough for anyone to see through if they had half a care."

"I didn't even know you were there."

" _Don't_ fucking remind me. I know you didn't. You _never_ do, even though there are no events you can go to that I'm not invited to as well. And you always seem to think that it's a coincidence when I seek you out afterwards. It's not. I just can't _stand_ you crying over that arse. Not when you could be moaning with pleasure in my arms instead."

"Is that why you called off your... the match?"

"No. It's been this way for ages, Granger. I wanted the match because I needed to move on regardless."

"Then why?!"

"Because of your damn disapproval, that's why! That's also why I haven't had anyone else in my bed for months now! I couldn't stand how you looked at me when you found out about..." He broke off the sentence and sighed. "This whole thing is rapidly becoming a nuisance. Especially considering that up until _now_ you yourself were in someone else's bed, and I bet that you would be again if he'd have you!"

That anger was back, tightening his features into a scowl. But his eyes were more than angry. They were confused. Maybe even hurt.

Hermione couldn't help but soften enough to tell him that she'd otherwise decided he didn't need to know. "I’ve never been in his bed."

Draco bared his teeth at her in an expression that was pure fury. "I really don't need specifics."

She cocked her head, finding his reaction rather interesting. "No, I mean it. I never slept with Harry."

For a moment, he just stared at her, but then he closed his eyes on a relieved groan and leaned his head back against the door.

"You're reacting quite strongly for someone who claimed to be devoid of feelings," she observed, ignoring that silly heart-pounding she had again. It simply wasn't possible for a person to be in love with someone and then react like this to someone else. And she knew without a doubt that she loved Harry.

"I know," he said, not opening his eyes. "But I actually never claimed to be devoid of feelings. I only said it couldn't be love."

"You're awfully fixated on semantics."

He opened his eyes. "And you're awfully nosy about something that's not really any of your business. You're in love with Potter and will probably stay that way no matter what conclusion I ultimately arrive at, so the question is really, what are you doing here?"

What _was_ she doing there? At this hour? With this person? She honestly had no idea and wished he hadn't asked. "I have nowhere else to go," she quietly said.

"You could go home?"

Except she couldn't really stand her own company, but she supposed she was being a bit of a nuisance to him. So she merely nodded and got to her feet. This time, he didn't stop her. "I suppose I'll see you on Monday?" she said, without meeting his eyes.

He sighed and it was a sound of pure annoyance. "Stop it, Hermione. I thought we—you were past that kind of thing."

What? She gave him a confused look. "Stop what?"

He also got to his feet. "Stop internalising everything and assuming you know what I'm thinking, and _stop running from what you really want_. You could simply say you don't want to go home and ask me if you could stay. I'd quite enjoy that, actually. It would make me feel like you actually wanted to be around me. Even for a little bit."

She avoided his eyes. For someone who claimed to be a lying liar who lied a lot, he certainly insisted on ruthless honesty most of the time. She wasn't sure how well she could handle that, considering how raw she was feeling. "I'd think it was rather obvious that I don't want to go home tonight."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But it's common courtesy to at least give the person you're about to use a _little_ in return for their efforts. I'm not asking much."

"You think I'm using you?"

"Aren't you?"

She looked away. She probably was. And here she hadn't thought it was possible to feel any worse about herself. But the fact was, she couldn't help it. Draco, of all people, seemed to be the only one who could make her feel good about herself lately, and after the night she'd had, she craved feeling better like nothing else.

"I thought so," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. An oddly tender gesture for him. "So at least _ask_ me if you can stay. It's not a big price for you to pay."

He was right. He really wasn't asking much. She looked up at him and quietly said, "Please let me stay, Draco."

Instead of replying, he gently used a couple of fingers to raise her chin and brushed his lips over hers. It was unbearably sweet, but as usual, _exactly_ what she needed. At that point, it wasn't difficult to shut down her tired brain, and so she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIEW:
> 
>  
> 
> She nudged Draco, and his eyes immediately opened, clear and free of sleep.
> 
> "You're awake," she said in a hushed voice, as if anyone else were around and could be woken.
> 
> "Yes."
> 
> She bit her lip, unsure what that meant. "Why did you pretend not to be?"
> 
> He gave a light, non-committal shrug. "Didn't know if you'd prefer to sneak out."
> 
> She swallowed. Should she have simply left? "I don't like sneaking."
> 
> "Good."
> 
> She couldn't help but smile.


	8. Chapter 8

When Hermione first opened her eyes, she was completely disorientated. Everything about the bed and the room she was in was entirely unfamiliar, and judging from the sparse light alone, she would say the time was closer to late afternoon than anything that could have even remotely resembled morning. It wasn't until she turned her head and saw Draco's relaxed features that she remembered everything that had happened last night.

And a few things that hadn't.

He'd let her stay. 

They hadn't had sex. 

She'd been both physically and emotionally exhausted and hadn't quite been able to get excited the way she otherwise would have. Her lack of excitement hadn't mattered much to her, though. She'd only wanted to forget and still wouldn't have minded having sex in order to achieve it. But Draco, quickly catching on, had merely cursed a bit and then contained himself to kissing her, muttering something about ungrateful tossers. She had no idea at what time she'd fallen asleep, but obviously she had slept for a while.

She really ought to go home now. Without inconveniencing Draco further.

She nudged him, and his eyes immediately opened, clear and free of sleep.

"You're awake," she said in a hushed voice, as if anyone else were around and could be woken.

"Yes."

She bit her lip, unsure what that meant. "Why did you pretend not to be?"

He gave a light, non-committal shrug. "Didn't know if you'd prefer to sneak out."

She swallowed. Should she have simply left? "I don't like sneaking."

"Good."

She couldn't help but smile. For a second there, she'd thought he'd _wanted_ her to leave without talking to him first. "How long have you been awake?"

He shrugged. "Most of the day, I suppose."

"And you didn't wake me up?" She looked around, unsurprised to find their robes haphazardly strewn all over the room.

"Obviously not. You seemed to need the rest."

"Oh." She blushed, very well knowing that her need for rest was why they hadn't had sex last night. "Thank you."

"And, if you're interested to know, I realised that I'm fucked." He rolled onto his back and put his hands under his head, narrowing his eyes at the ceiling in a scowl.

She got up on her elbows to look down at him, curiosity overcoming any kind of embarrassment she might have felt. "How so?"

He looked at her through the corner of his eye. "I was hard for you all night—or day, if you will."

She frowned, not certain what he meant. "Oh?"

"Yeah, that's not so strange. It was to be expected. I told you before that I can't ever stop wanting you long enough to even think. The strange part was when I felt perfectly content not doing anything about it but just... holding you and watching you sleep. I can think up excuses for almost everything else, Granger, but not that. I have to take back what I said yesterday. It may be a selfish kind of love, but it's there."

Shock and, if she had to be honest with herself also a little thrill, went through her. "But you said you weren't—!"

"I know." 

"So how can I trust _this_ verdict?"

"Does it even really matter? You said _his_ name in your sleep, not mine. And, by the way, I didn't enjoy _that_ part." He was scoffing, but there seemed to be an edge of real hurt to his words.

She blushed and became defensive. "You can't blame me for that after the night I had!"

Her defensiveness legitimately seemed to confuse him. "Why would I blame you? I, of all people, should know how these kinds of feelings work by now. They're a damn inconvenience. The more you can't have someone, the more you're going to want them. And since you can now have me, you obviously won't want me. It makes perfect sense." He closed his eyes as if tired.

"Aren't you being a little... pessimistic?" she ventured.

That made him laugh. "Maybe." He hesitated. "Would you like to go out with me, then?"

"What?"

"Come on, Hermione. Don't act stupid. I'm in love with you, and I want to go out with you. I know it's a little much to absorb and the timing is probably horrid, but it has to make sense on some level. A yes or no is all it takes."

She looked down at her hands. 'A little much to absorb' was the understatement of the decade, as far as she was concerned. "I can't."

He flinched. "Swift and painful. Just the way I like it. Ok. Had to try, right?"

"That's not it!" she rushed to say, because she couldn't bear the way he was currently avoiding her eyes. "I can't go out with you. Harry... I can't hurt him even more by letting him think I threw him aside for you."

He shrugged. "That would be appropriate, though, wouldn't it? Considering what ended your relationship. In fact, you did rather throw him aside."

She recoiled. "That's... that's just..." She began to get out of bed.

"No, wait!" He got up on his knees on the bed and stopped her from getting up. "That was my jealousy talking. I have that, you see. Lots of it. Here I am, willing to at least try to prove myself to you, and all you care about is what your ex would think. I hate him so fucking much right now, I can't even begin to describe it."

"He's been my ex for less than twenty-four hours, Draco."

"Yet you've shown interest in me for much longer than that."

She couldn't believe he'd just said that. The fact that she'd _had_ this inappropriate interest in him was exactly the reason why her life was a mess. It physically hurt to have him claim to love her and then go straight for the jugular like this. "Keep digging, Malfoy," she whispered.

He buried his hands in his hair and pulled, making an aggravated sound. "Have you discovered that I get a bit offensive when I get defensive yet? Look, if you don't want to give me anything or be my anything, just say so. Don't make excuses. Don't pretend that hurting Potter's feelings is an issue, when you know full well that, for you, I'd be discreet if you asked me to."

She bit her lip, thinking about it. He claimed it was as easy as saying yes or no, but it really wasn't. There was Harry, obviously, and her feelings for him. But there was also Draco himself. She didn't know if she had any feelings for him beyond lust and a bit of possessive jealousy. How could she lead him on, knowing—or at least having reasonable suspicions—that he had deeper feelings for her? Besides, going out with him would probably have its own very ugly ending, simply because he was _Draco Malfoy_. She couldn't bear if another good thing was ruined like that. She'd rather stop it right here, right now.

She took a deep breath. "All right... I won't. I say no."

She was reaching for her robes on the floor when his hand grabbed her arm and forced her to face him. "Why?"

"You said you didn't want excuses."

"I suddenly find that I need _something_. Give me a reason why you can't give me a chance." 

"I can give you a dozen!"

"One." He looked at her expectantly and dropped his hand from her arm.

She stared at him. He was actually going to count? All right, she would give him something worth counting. "How about everything you said yesterday?"

"Be more specific."

"How you treat women!"

"I've already tried to make amends with the one I judged unfairly. I'm very open to additional criticism. Two."

That was brushed off fairly easily, but all right. She had far more. "The way you talk about my exes!"

He grimaced. "I knew this wouldn't be easy. All right, I'll try to be kind or say nothing at all. Three."

"Draco..."

"Three!" He gave her a very stubborn and determined look.

She sighed, and averted her gaze. "You'd rather lie than risk your own hide."

"I'd lose you if I lied, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, if I found you out."

He shrugged. "Then I'll always assume you'll find me out. Four."

She gaped, quite unable to believe what she was hearing. "What kind of reason is _that_ to behave?"

"Is that your number four?"

She scowled at him. "You are my political opponent."

"I will resign. Five."

" _What?_ " Throw his career away for a witch? Was he quite mad?

He pursed his lips as if she were amusing him. "I have no strong beliefs, Hermione. I'm only trying to do whatever is good for _me_. Resigning would be good for me, I think."

She scowled at him. "Add that as your number five."

"What? My selfishness?"

"You could call it that."

"But you can use that, can't you? Make me behave so I won't lose you, and then convert me to your thinking."

"Is it even possible to 'convert' someone motivated by selfishness?"

"I'll change if it means having you."

Hermione shook her head at his twisted logic and muttered, "I can see forever..."

"What?"

"Six!" She went on. "I would eventually have to deal with your family's prejudice."

"But you like converting people, don't you? And they're as selfish as me, so they will love you. Seven!"

"Harry!"

He clenched his jaw. "You'll get over him. Ei—"

"No, that's not what I meant! Imagine how he'd feel finding out about... us..."

"I told you I could be discreet."

"Yes, but he knows that there was someone else! He'll figure it out."

He stared at her for a bit and then quietly said, "So, what? You're never going to see someone again? Or is it just that you never want anyone to know that you're with _me_?"

She looked away. His judgement of her wasn't as unfair as she would have liked. She couldn't even imagine what the world would say to this relationship or how they'd overcome their differences. She felt it might be madness to even try.

"Eight," he pressed on, in spite of not resolving the last point.

"I don't know how I feel." Her voice was very quiet.

"The fact that it was only your _eighth_ reason gives me hope," he replied. "But even if you don't fall in love with me, so what? All I asked for was a chance. Nine."

"I'm not doing this any more." Once more, she turned to leave.

"You promised me a dozen reasons, Hermione."

"And you're simply going to brush every single one of them off! Like nothing bad could happen!" She began reaching for her clothes again, only to have him grab her once more. She turned to glare at him.

He ignored the glare. "The worst that can happen is that we have more sex. You like the sex. And then you could either fall for me or move on and fall for someone else. There is no downside. Not for you."

"No!" She tore her arm free. "The worst that can happen is that y—someone gets hurt!"

"And you think this doesn't bloody hurt? You think it's fun to hear all the reasons you don't want me?" He was paler than usual and his face looked drawn, lending truth to his statement. She wished she didn't believe him. She didn't want any more people to hurt because of her.

"I'm sorry. Trust me, it hurts less when it happens sooner."

He shook his head. "Sorry, but I have to disagree. I can't tell you how frustrating it is to never even get the chance! I'm really nothing but... comfort food to you, am I?"

His wounded expression stopped her from making a rather inappropriate joke about how he'd better not make her fat to derail the topic away from all this very unpleasant honesty. "Comfort food?" she instead asked.

"Yeah, whenever you feel down, you overindulge on me and then feel awful about it. It's the only way you can relate to me. You only want me to be _wrong_ for you. You simply can't wrap your head around the fact that I could be _right_ for you too, if you'd only let me!"

His words hit far too close to home for her liking. "How can you be right for me?" she quietly asked. "How can I have these feelings for Harry if you're right for me? How can _anything_ that starts like this be right for anyone?"

"How could you cheat on the person who means the most to you in this world, if it _weren't_ because you knew I could be right for you?" he countered. "You should know by now that feelings aren't as simple as people would have you think. It is possible to love more than one person at the same time. The question only becomes... who do you love more? Or, alternatively, 'can I have both?' But sorry, in this case you can't. You need to choose whether you want to give me a shot, or whether you want to go on believing you ruined it all for _nothing_ and maybe try to get Potter to forgive you and take you back."

She shook her head. This was too much. Too many feelings all at once. It wasn't really possible to be in love with two men at once, was it? No, of course not. He was merely muddling her mind, trying to get her to do what he wanted.

"Think about it, Hermione," he urged. "Think about how hard it was to resist. Think about how jealous and hurt you were when you realised I'd been substituting you because I thought I couldn't have you. Think about how you've turned to me for comfort several times, always trusting me in some way to make you feel better. I think you might on some level want to be with me, but the idea is so foreign to you that you can't seem to understand it. I think you _thought_ you wanted to be with Potter because he was so perfect for you on the surface, but you're far more upset at losing him as a friend than a lover. I think you were blind-sided by the depth of our connection. I think you'd also be crying if you'd remained with Potter but I'd chosen to marry another. I think—"

"You certainly think a lot, Malfoy!" she interrupted.

"And what do you think, then, Hermione?" he asked, his voice quiet. "That I'm wrong? That you could never love me? That Potter was your only ticket to happiness?"

"I think that I feel awful for not knowing what I want and hurting everyone trying to figure it out," she admitted. Because it was the truth. She'd hurt Harry, Draco, and even Ron so long ago, because she didn't seem to be able to sort out her own head or heart.

"If it makes you feel any better, it made me happy that you stayed the night... or day," he said, palming her cheek. "At least now I know what's wrong with me. It's always easier to fix something when you know the cause, isn't it? I now have a chance of moving on."

"Since when did you turn into such a sap?" she mocked. She didn't like him referring to his feelings for her as something that needed to be _fixed_ and left behind.

He flashed a cheeky grin at her. "Since I fucked a beautiful witch up against a bookcase and realised it wasn't enough for me. So, Hermione... This will be the last time I ask, I promise. If you say no, I will let you go. Completely. Will you stay in with me tonight?"

She wavered. What if he really didn't intend to ask again? What if she said no and realised tomorrow or next week or next month that she'd made the wrong choice? What if she said no and really, truly lost him forever? No more Draco to comfort her or kiss her or even mock her. No more Draco to challenge her.

She hated herself for being selfish enough to be afraid of that happening. She hated herself even more for being weak enough to bow to that fear.

"Will there be food?" she tentatively asked as her stomach reminded her of how long it had been since she'd last eaten. A single meal with a bit of potential wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

He slowly smiled, and she had to look away, because for once his smile actually looked happy and it did strangely painful and exciting things to her insides. "Ouch," he lightly said. "Food is all she thinks about when all _I_ think about is how to get her beneath—and on top of—me for the rest of the night. But certainly. I can supply the very greasiest take-away you can imagine. But only because I'm optimistic about the need for a stamina boost."

So maybe tonight would be a bit more than a meal. And maybe it was ok if she didn't quite know what she wanted yet, as long as she was honest both with him and with herself. Draco was a big boy. He knew exactly what she'd done and what kind of person she was, yet he still wanted her.

It was probably even why he wanted her.

Maybe it was time to stop thinking and start feeling. And right at this moment, she felt like greasy take-away.

She snorted lightly at him. "Lovely. Who needs fancy restaurants and romance, when they can have greasy take-aways and sex?"

"Brilliant." He smoothed a wayward lock of her hair behind her ear. "And if you stick around after tonight, I'll take you places after we've finished with all the sex. That should give your Potter enough time to recover."

"After we've finished with all the sex? So, you're never going to take me anywhere?" she asked, running her hands up his chest to settle on his shoulders. 

He grinned. "That's my girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes yet another story. Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. Special thanks to namelessamelie for sparking a bunny that I'd otherwise never have had, and for being very much in agreement with me that an unequivocal fluff ending would be too jarring for this piece. It's already three times (literally) as long as I had initially meant for it to be, so to those that will inevitably ask - no, there won't be any kind of epilogue or sequel. But come on. He makes her tingly. It'll work out all right. ;) See you next time!


End file.
